A Simple Case of Loving You
by Charmed Lassie
Summary: When Sgt Sheelagh Murphy joins Sun Hill she strikes up an unlikely friendship with ADI Samantha Nixon. The ease of their friendship surprises them both but what will it lead to? Eventual femmeslash.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Anyone who has been reading my work for a number of years knows that I've had a bit of an obsession with these two since around 2003. They were my first major pairing and I still adore them. I suppose this story is a chance for me to use my improved writing skills to create an alternate history for them. When Drama began showing the episodes again I recognised I had a unique chance to write a fan fic that runs alongside the episodes. At the beginning it will be very close to the script but it will gradually deviate more and more. Intrepid fans will recognise scenes from the show, though they hopefully won't notice the joins. There's a fair chunk of this written already but I'll upload it slowly and, be warned, future chapters are much longer! The title, incidentally, comes from a song by The Nolans. That felt very fitting under the circumstances. Happy reading.

* * *

Jumping into a new station at short notice was something Sheelagh had anticipated, though the speed of all this was a bit beyond her expectations. A sergeant left with a fractured skull in the early hours of the morning and she was drafted in to cover, with today as her induction, and at the troubled Sun Hill station of all places. Of course she knew what she was walking into – she'd watched the press briefing last night with Eva Sharpe pleading for the safe return of her daughter, hopefully along with the rest of London. To find herself driving into the station was a bit surreal but that feeling disappeared the moment she drew to a halt behind a stampede of journalists blocking a car from getting through the gates. No prizes for guessing who was in the car and her ire rose.

Beeping the horn, she muttered, 'I don't believe this.' She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, intent on pushing some of the journalists aside. 'Animals. Get out of her way.'

Some of them edged away from the car and the gates ahead opened fully. It was enough for the car to move and, really, what did it matter if one of the journalists got clipped at this point? They deserved it.

Bashing on the window, she called, 'Just drive, put your foot down, go.'

The car made it through the gates, albeit it with the press jabbering and running after it. These vultures made her sick.

'I hope you're proud of yourselves,' she said, though she didn't get the impression any of them were listening.

Returning to her car, she drove through the gates, flashing her warrant card at an officer who, regardless of her status, seemed to want to let her through thanks to what she'd just done for Eva. It only took her a minute to park and, as she walked into the station via the rear entrance, she found herself between Eva and another officer. Though it was lucky it had happened that way since she didn't yet know the codes to get in on her own, she couldn't help but watch Eva carefully as they entered the station. She couldn't imagine her pain, especially with people gawping at her left, right and centre. Sheelagh withdrew her eyes and looked for the first uniformed officer along the corridor to ask directions to Inspector Gold's office.

She didn't find Inspector Gina Gold so much as the inspector swept along and picked her up. She looked as immersed in the Joanna Sharpe inquiry as everyone else but managed half a smile as she shook her hand and then gestured for them to keep walking.

'Thanks for coming in at such short notice, Sergeant Murphy,' she said.

'Pleased that I could help,' she replied. 'How is Sergeant Gilmore?'

The inspector grimaced. 'Mostly cuts and bruises.'

'When is he due back?' Sheelagh asked.

'Well, he's decided to opt for a transfer,' Inspector Gold answered, surprising her a little. 'You're here on a temporary basis, aren't you?'

She nodded. 'Three months, yeah.'

'And you're sure you can start tomorrow?'

'Oh, absolutely,' she replied.

A flicker of gratitude crossed the inspector's face before vanishing. 'Right,' she said briskly. 'Well, I'll show you where your locker is and give you the guided tour.'

They were just rounding the corner when a voice interrupted them. One glance and Sheelagh recognised DI Samantha Nixon from the press briefing, as authoritative in the flesh as she had been on the screen.

'Gina,' she said, 'you and I need to catch up as soon as possible.'

'Could you just give me five minutes?' asked Inspector Gold with a nod towards Sheelagh.

DI Nixon looked at her and shot her a courteous half-smile. 'Yeah, sure,' she said before striding off down the corridor.

'It's going to be a bit whistle-stop, I'm afraid,' Inspector Gold muttered.

Sheelagh could see the worries piling up behind her eyes. 'Parking spaces and ladies' changing rooms can wait,' she said firmly. 'It's hardly more important than a missing person's inquiry. I'd be happier mucking in.'

After a moment, Inspector Gold managed the same sort of smile DI Nixon had. 'Well, that's great,' she said. 'Come on.'

* * *

For now she was tasked with photocopying. As long as she kept busy, she felt that in some way she was contributing to the effort of finding Joanna Sharpe. That's why Eva was in after all, trying to take some pressure off the investigation team – as well as trying to occupy her mind, of course.

'Hey, listen,' a voice said suddenly, 'thanks for before.'

Turning, she shook her head at Eva. 'It was nothing.'

'Well, anyway, thanks.' She gestured to the photocopier. 'They've got you playing office admin as well, have they? I don't even know who you are,' she added.

Smiling, she replied, 'Sergeant Sheelagh Murphy, Sergeant Gilmore's replacement. I'm supposed to be starting tomorrow but nothing like getting stuck in. After this, I'm on tea duty.'

'You'll be popular,' Eva commented, though Sheelagh could see her attention drifting. With one last smile, she collected her photocopying and went to deliver it back to Inspector Gold.

At least she was finding her way around the station easily enough, though she hadn't yet stayed in one place for very long. Going to the canteen, she collected a tray full of teas for the officers involved in the investigation and balanced them on her way back up the stairs. When she came through the door at the top she found Eva with her eyes fixed on the briefing blaring through the television in the incident room with another officer. Though Eva didn't take a tea, he did and then disappeared. Sheelagh lingered, watching Eva watching DI Nixon's statement to the press. Feeling like a voyeur, she moved on, easily finding recipients for her first batch of teas.

The press briefing seemed to follow her around the station. When she returned to the canteen with an empty tray, it was still going on – or a key portion of it was being replayed – and she listened to Samantha Nixon's measured tones without being fooled for a second. No one in this station was unaffected by Joanna Sharpe's disappearance, especially not the calm and collected DI Nixon.

After refilling her tray, she delivered a cup to an officer she'd seen in the incident room earlier. Then she heard a Scouse voice call out, 'Here you are, love, I'll have a cup of tea, two sugars.'

She looked up and found a bald man grinning at her from the counter. Instinctively, she knew he was a PC, despite not being in uniform. He just had that look about him. 'You'll find the sugar's on the counter,' she replied. 'Sir.'

There was some sort of retort from him but she didn't hear it – she was already on her rounds again. After she'd done another batch of tea deliveries, she was back upstairs printing some more posters for the teams to take out with them on the search. That's where she was when she felt two hands on her shoulders and she was turned around by Inspector Gold to face DI Nixon.

'Sheelagh,' said Inspector Gold. 'More work for you.'

She smiled as the inspector hurried off and DI Nixon edged them out of the thoroughfare. 'You picked a fine day to wander into the station, Sheelagh,' she said. 'You'll never get away.'

'Right now, that's fine by me,' she replied, shrewdly examining the woman in front of her. She hadn't been mistaken – this investigation was certainly having an effect on her; though she was striving not to show it, the anxiety burned in her green eyes. 'What can I do?' she asked.

Inhaling deeply, it took a second for DI Nixon to gather herself. 'DC Glaze – have you met him?'

'Possibly,' she said, 'but I can track him down easily enough anyway. Go on.'

'He's got a number of actions outstanding,' DI Nixon continued. 'Anything you could take off his hands would be brilliant. Oh and...' She paused and pressed her lips together for a moment. 'We're doing a reconstruction and we need a replica of that coat Joanna was wearing. Do you think you can do that?'

'Of course,' she answered, pleased to see the pressure on Samantha Nixon's brow ease ever-so-slightly. 'If there anything else you need, let me know.'

DI Nixon chuckled. 'You'll regret that, Sheelagh,' she said, patting her arm as she moved off, utterly focused on whatever her next task was.

Finding someone to ask about the coat proved trickier than it should've done with everyone on the move. Finally, just as she was beginning to get a little desperate, she caught sight of the one person who would definitely know and grimaced. Still, the reconstruction was important and she had told the DI she'd get it sorted.

'Eva,' she said hesitantly, 'can I check something with you?'

'Er, course.'

She struggled with the words under Eva's curious gaze. 'Joanna's coat,' she murmured, 'for the reconstruction.'

Realisation dawned on the detective's face. 'You need to know where I bought it.'

'Sorry to have to ask you,' she said.

Eva waved that away and proceeded to give her the details, though Sheelagh noted she rushed off with fresh tears in her eyes afterwards. Mindful that the reconstruction rested on this coat, she pulled out all the stops to track it down, arriving back at the station with very little time to spare. First, though, she had to check she'd made the right purchase and, for that, she located Eva in CID.

Pulling it out of the bag, she asked, 'Is this the right one?'

The look on Eva's face said it all. 'Yeah, it's an exact match.'

'Right,' she replied, though it didn't feel like a sufficient response.

'And are they doing the reconstruction now?' Eva questioned.

She nodded. 'As soon as I get this to them.'

It was natural for Eva to want to be there, she supposed, although it was going to be the latest in a long line of difficult moments for her. After a few disruptions, they made it to the newsagents where DI Nixon gave her preamble to the assembled press. At least at this point in the day the vultures could prove useful, though Sheelagh hadn't quite forgiven them for torturing Eva earlier.

Finally, Samantha Nixon said, 'One other thing – Joanna Sharp's mother is here today to help the police with the reconstruction. She will not be talking to the press.'

With that, she came to stand them. Sheelagh glanced over, met her eye and received a pained half-smile in return. Then everybody's attention was on the little girl pretending to be Joanna. Sheelagh could see the pain in Eva's frame as she watched this child, so like her daughter and yet not, act out Joanna's motions from the day before.

'Please, let this jog someone's memory,' Eva muttered.

Before Sheelagh glanced back to the street, she noticed Samantha take Eva's hand and the simple action confirmed all her thoughts about DI Nixon throughout the day. Then she focused, like the rest of them on the little girl disappearing out of sight.

The reconstruction went as well as it could then Sheelagh found herself swept back into the station by Danny Glaze to take on some more of his work. That kept her busy and, by the time Inspector Gold collared her in the corridor to tell her to go home, she was genuinely surprised how late it was. Her satisfaction at doing a good day's work, though, was naturally tempered by the fact that Joanna Sharpe was still missing and Eva was facing a second night without her daughter where she should be. That thought was enough to make her want to get home and give her three a hug, whether they liked it or not.

As she left the station, someone trotted up behind her. It was the bald man she'd encountered earlier, though she was more prepared for him now.

'Hey,' he said, 'you're putting the hours in, aren't you, love?'

She carried on walking. 'There's a lot of work to be done.'

'One of the most important jobs at the station, that, getting the breakfasts ready,' he replied.

Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, she replied, 'Happily, it's not mine.'

'You just on the old bevs then, are you?' he asked.

'No, PC Taviner, I'm not,' she said, turning to him with a challenge.

'Hey, listen,' he went on, oblivious, 'do you fancy...' Trailing off, he frowned. 'How do you know my name?'

'I make a point of learning all the PCs names on my first day,' she answered, enjoying the confusion on his face. 'I'm your new sergeant, Des.'

With that, she left him standing there, delighted to have rendered him speechless. From what she'd heard around the station, that was practically worthy of a commendation.

* * *

That night she did indeed make a point of grabbing a few minutes with the kids, in between washing, ironing and trying to coordinate her forthcoming shifts with Patrick's. At least he had a certain amount of choice in his job and was completely supportive of her career, even when he had to pick up the slack at home.

Like everyone, she harboured the hope that Joanna had been found safe overnight but it wasn't to be. The station was still swarming with activity and, though it was her first real day, she was eager to pitch in again. Stood in the Sergeants' Office reading through some of Craig Gilmore's notes, she heard Inspector Gold and DI Nixon walking down the corridor discussing what case they could give Eva to deal with. After some deliberation, they'd come up with a burglary and moped theft.

'Who's dealing?' DI Nixon asked.

'Well, no one yet,' Inspector Gold answered. 'All my spare officers are working for you.'

Wandering to the door, Sheelagh edged out in front of them. 'I could take it,' she suggested.

Her superior looked a little apprehensive. 'But it's your first shift,' she said. 'Wouldn't you be better off sticking round the station?'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I'd rather be out there, Ma'am. And I'd be happy to keep an eye on Eva for you,' she added, aiming that at DI Nixon. For her trouble, she received something close to a smile and a grateful nod.

'Your luck's in,' Inspector Gold commented as she disappeared.

'Thank you, Sheelagh,' DI Nixon said before striding off along the corridor.

A few minutes later she returned with Eva in tow. It was doubtful she'd slept but Sheelagh was determined not to draw attention to it. Eva had her sympathy, of course, but the last thing she wanted was to be mollycoddled. She was fairly sure Samantha Nixon would agree with that analysis as she walked them to the yard, trying to reassure Eva, yes, but reassure her firmly.

'Call if anything happens, yeah?' Eva said.

'Don't worry, I will,' DI Nixon replied.

'Anything,' pressed Eva.

'I promise, Eva.'

As the DC reluctantly got into the car, Sheelagh hesitated, looking over when Eva's door slammed and meeting Samantha's eye over the roof. The DI nodded, trusting her, and she nodded back. She only hoped, as she slipped into the driver's seat, that she could keep Eva partially occupied, at least for an hour or so.

* * *

The case might've been routine, a moped stolen from a delivery driver who'd now lost his job over it, but it could never be completely detached from Joanna. For a start, when they walked into the pizza shop, they were greeted with a poster of the missing girl and a comment from the owner that was probably meant as sympathetic but came across as the tiniest bit accusatory. Sheelagh steered the conversation back towards the stolen moped but the damage was done in Eva's head. When they left the shop, her mind was already back at the station, and seeing another poster of her daughter didn't help.

'This is going nowhere, Sarge,' Eva said, eyes fixed on Joanna's picture.

Sheelagh wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the window. 'Might be worth having a drive round,' she said. 'See if that moped shows up.'

Eva sighed. 'Look, let's just go back to the nick.'

'Eva,' Sheelagh said after a moment, 'you can't do anything more than you're doing. Let them get on with it. You've an arrangement with DI Nixon, haven't you?'

'Yeah,' retorted Eva, 'and is that why she chose not to tell me about the paedophile ring they're investigating?'

She exhaled, a renewed sense of sympathy tugging at her stomach. However, she could completely understand Samantha being reluctant to tell Eva something like that, whether it was relevant to Joanna's case or not. 'Okay, sorry, I had no idea,' she said.

'Well, why should you, Sarge?' Eva asked. 'You know, you picked a pretty lousy day to start, didn't you?

'There's such a thing as a good day?' Sheelagh returned, lightening the mood a touch.

Though she managed to persuade Eva to continue with the investigation, she wanted to do it back at the station and Sheelagh couldn't deny her that. So she went to get them both a drink and returned to her office while Eva checked in upstairs.

The next thing she knew, there was Eva steaming past the office. When she called her name she didn't get a response and it was plain she needed to follow her from the way her shoulders and jaw were set. She ran out into the yard just in time to see Eva jump into her car and drive off. Sheelagh rushed to the car she'd been driving all morning and set off through the gates to follow her.

It wasn't the best time to be trying to find her way around the borough. Not that local knowledge would've helped her right now since she didn't have a clue where Eva was headed. What had she heard or seen to put her in that mood so suddenly? Part of Sheelagh didn't want to think about it, but she suspected her phone would've rung had there been any real news and Eva had run off like this.

Still, each time she lost sight of the car, she panicked a little. Then a flash of blue caught her eye and she swerved left or right, focused on at least keeping on Eva's trail. At one junction she couldn't get through in time and Eva hared right down a residential street. Sheelagh didn't want to use the sirens if she could help it – drawing more attention to Eva that way would be cruel – so she waited as patiently as she could until the lights changed and she was able to follow her into the quiet housing estate.

Glancing down every side street, she couldn't see the car. At the end of the road she looked left and right and finally saw the blue vehicle parked up on the kerb. Her relief at tracking Eva down was short-lived as she saw the desperation on the detective's face. Turning and searching the ground, Eva found a large rock and Sheelagh leapt from the car, reaching the step just in time to grab her hand.

'Drop it, Eva,' she ordered. As the rock fell to the ground, Eva seemed to remember a little bit of who she was, though anger still blazed in her eyes. 'Is this something to do with the DCI's investigation?' Sheelagh questioned.

'I don't see anyone investigating anything,' Eva retorted.

'So you thought you'd do it yourself, is that it?'

'My daughter might be in there,' said Eva.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'Hang on a minute, you've got no evidence of that.'

'Evidence of what? Sergeant?' The word was tagged on as an angry afterthought. 'What, a shoe, a hair? Yeah. Evidence means she's dead. But she might be alive right now in there. And in five minutes she might not be and that is all I care about.'

Of course Sheelagh understood that, but she'd need more than Eva's grief to permit her to break into a stranger's house. 'Okay,' she said, calling her bluff, 'let's do it properly. I'll inform DI Nixon.'

Dismay flickered across Eva's face. 'She doesn't need to know, Sarge.'

'No,' Sheelagh replied, 'because you don't trust her anymore, do you? And that's why you're here, about to blow a huge hole in two separate investigations and get yourself suspended.'

'I don't care,' Eva said through clenched teeth.

'Yes, you do,' she said firmly. 'You're a police officer as well as a parent and you know the way things should be done. And you know Joanna's not in there, don't you?' To her relief, Eva nodded and she slotted an arm around her shoulders, turning her away from the house. 'Come here,' she said as they began walking. 'I'll get a uniform to pick up your car.'

Eva was silent for much of the journey, aside from giving her directions when she got a little lost on the estate. Then, when they were driving through the gates, she cleared her throat.

Sheelagh pulled into a parking space before glancing over. 'You okay?'

'I'm sorry,' said Eva finally.

'I understand,' Sheelagh replied. 'No harm done in the end.'

'It was... It was like a fog,' Eva murmured. 'I couldn't think.'

Hesitating, Sheelagh said, 'Maybe you need to be at home.' When Eva looked up sharply, she added, 'I'm not saying this to get you out of my hair, I promise. If you really want to be at work, I'll stay with you all day and I'm not about to tell the DI what just happened. But is it helping? Right now, is it helping you?'

After a moment, Eva shook her head. 'No.'

'Go get your stuff and I'll grab someone to take you home who won't ask any questions.'

Eva unbuckled her seatbelt. 'Not Reg Hollis then.'

Sheelagh smiled. 'Definitely not Reg,' she answered.

Depositing Eva inside, she went to follow up on the pizza shop owner. On her way, she bumped into Inspector Gold.

'Eva gone home?' asked the inspector.

'I think it was all proving a bit much for her, Ma'am,' Sheelagh replied. 'Told her it was the best thing.'

'Well, I don't know what you did to persuade her but it's more than anyone else was able to do. Good work, Sheelagh,' Gina concluded.

'Thank you, Ma'am,' Sheelagh said with a smile.

Throwing herself into the case worked to take her mind off the fact that a young girl was still missing. It turned out the moped driver had refused to supply cannabis along with pizzas and a beating had followed the burglary. After a little bit of persuasion, Inspector Gold offered up a few officers for a sting and they managed to arrest the pizza shop owner. It was only a small result, but one made more enjoyable by the fact the man went flying as they tried to arrest him and that they got free pizza out of it. Food was always a good morale booster – at least, it worked with her boys and her new team wasn't too far removed from them as far as she could see.

Her good mood lasted until they got back to the station. They were doling out the pizza to the relief when she saw Inspector Gold sweeping past the office looking very grim. Hurrying out, Sheelagh caught up with her around the corner.

'What is it, Ma'am?' she asked. 'Is it Joanna?'

'Yeah,' Gina answered, steadying herself on the wall. 'They've found a body. Might not be her but... Well, it might be.'

Speechless, Sheelagh just nodded and let the inspector move on. All she could think about was Eva and that haunted look in her eyes earlier. She couldn't imagine what she'd be going through tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

The station was subdued when Sam got back. Obviously the news had filtered through about the discovery of a child's body and everyone seemed in shock. Search teams were still being sent out, the phone lines were still open, but there was a sense of futility that she hated. The only reason she'd come back was to pick up her bag but she didn't get as far as her office. Instead, a recollection of what had happened to that poor dead girl flickered through her mind and she rushed for the bathroom. There was barely anything to come up, though she leaned against the door for endless minutes trying to clear her head enough to drive while tears threatened her eyelids.

When she unlocked the door, she went to the sink to wash her hands and face. Instead of grabbing a paper towel, though, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, wondered what she must've looked like to Eva an hour ago. The sort of woman you'd put your trust in to find your daughter? What a colossal mistake that had been.

The door opened but her brain didn't pick up on the noise right away. Finally blinking, she caught sight of Sheelagh Murphy, out of her uniform now and with her hair loose around her shoulders, stood there watching her. Although she'd only been in Sun Hill for two days, Sam seemed to have seen her in every corridor already – she'd thrown herself completely into her work, becoming like part of the furniture.

'Are you okay, Ma'am?' Sheelagh asked quietly.

The caring tone brought fresh tears to her eyes. To mask them, she ducked her face back down and saturated it in cold water. When she lifted her head again, Sheelagh was beside her, tugging a few paper towels loose and handing them over.

'Thanks,' Sam murmured, dabbing at her cheeks with her eyes averted. 'Sorry.'

'Don't apologise,' answered Sheelagh. 'You're only human, you know.'

She snorted. 'That's still up for debate. You ought to pay a bit more attention to the gossips, Sheelagh.'

'I like to make up my own mind,' was the response.

Sam glanced back to the blue eyes studying her in the mirror, still uncertain of the kindness there. 'Look at you,' she said, trying to inject a little more authority into her tone, 'we'll have to start charging you rent if you don't go home soon.'

Sheelagh's gaze was unwavering. 'Samantha –'

'Sam,' she interrupted, surprising herself. She hated people shortening her name sometimes, she hated the presumption of it, but 'Samantha' sounded far too formal for this moment with this woman she barely knew.

'Sam,' repeated Sheelagh with a small smile, placing a hand on her shoulder, 'I've been watching you hold it together. You've done a pretty good job but you can't keep it all in, you know. You have to let it out at some point. It'll be our little secret,' she added.

The words shivered through her. Scrunching the paper towels she was still holding up into a rigid ball, she turned from the mirror and settled with her back against the sink unit. Sheelagh did the same, still watching her, but discreetly.

'I couldn't tell her, Sheelagh,' Sam said finally. 'As FLO, Jim was the family contact, but that wasn't why I left it to... I bottled out, that's it.'

'There's no shame in that,' replied Sheelagh. 'There's nothing normal about this case. I've only spent a few hours with Eva but I wouldn't have been able to break that news to her professionally, without emotion. It couldn't be done.'

'No,' she said, shaking her head, 'I've let her down. I didn't tell her about the paedophile ring because –'

'It's only a line of inquiry,' Sheelagh cut in. 'You wouldn't share that information with the parent of a missing child unless you had a concrete connection.'

Sam swallowed and crushed the paper ball further into her palm. 'Maybe I was trying to protect me.'

Sheelagh squeezed her arm. 'Well, there's no shame in that either.'

For a few seconds the only sound was the water guzzling through the pipes. Then Sam asked, 'How many kids have you got, Sheelagh?'

'Three,' she replied. 'Teenagers, two boys and a girl.'

Sam shot her an incredulous glance. 'How do you manage? I can't cope with one.'

Chuckling, Sheelagh said, 'It's not easy. But nothing worth having is.'

That gave way to another pause and Sam dipped her eyes again. There was something about this situation that felt peculiar; maybe it was just that she didn't have these conversations with colleagues, or anyone at all really. She was self-sufficient to the point that she didn't know how to talk to people normally sometimes, and she certainly wasn't used to people taking the time to interrogate her mental state. If Sheelagh was trying this on day two at Sun Hill, Sam had no idea what she'd be like after a few weeks at the station. Oddly, though, that prospect didn't make her feel as uncomfortable as she assumed it might.

Finally, she inhaled deeply and looked up, meeting Sheelagh's eye. 'You should go home,' she said.

'So should you,' Sheelagh replied seriously.

'I will, I will,' she promised, straightening up. 'I've got a couple of things to check in on then I'll go.'

With a sigh, Sheelagh turned to her. 'Come on, let me have a look at you.'

For a moment she was bemused, frowning at Sheelagh's compassionate expression. Then she realised the intention was to help her put the mask back on and a wave of gratitude washed over her. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head up, looking directly at the sergeant, focusing on her penetrating eyes. 'Well?'

'You'll do,' Sheelagh answered. 'Have you eaten by the way?'

Sam waved away the question as she headed for the door. 'Cup of coffee and a bar of chocolate – works every time.'

'Are you a Dairy Milk or a Galaxy kind of girl?' asked Sheelagh, reaching the door first and tugging it open for her.

'Galaxy,' Sam said firmly. 'There's no comparison.'

'Woman after my own heart,' Sheelagh said. Then, with them now fully exposed in the corridor, she nodded her head. 'Night, Ma'am.'

'Night, Sheelagh,' murmured Sam, watching her until she turned a corner.

The station hummed on around her but she felt a bit detached from it all. After a moment, she shook herself into remembering the way to her office and the closer she got the more like Acting Detective Inspector Nixon she felt. By the time she walked past the incident room she was ready to ruffle a few feathers and encourage the call-handlers to take any tip seriously. There was no evidence this body was Joanna's and she sure as hell wasn't going to accept that conclusion until it was written down in black and white in front of her.

* * *

Though she spent perhaps another hour at the station, she managed to talk herself into going home for some rest. There was nothing else she could do until daylight and it might be that she'd need every drop of energy the next day. She tried not to equate that with a positive identification on the child's body, instead just telling herself that, whoever this girl was, she deserved a thorough investigation and she was going to get one if Sam had anything to do with it.

When she got home the house was quiet. The whole place was tidier than she'd expected it to be, usually that would've sparked her suspicions but tonight it merely raised a tired smile. Dumping her bag in the living room, she wandered through to the kitchen, vaguely aware that she should follow Sheelagh's unspoken advice and have something decent to eat, though she couldn't really be bothered. Then she spotted a note on the table in Abi's familiar scrawl: _Fridge_.

Following the instruction, she found a salad wrapped up in foil and she chuckled to herself. As she settled at the table to eat it, she wondered where Abi got these little bursts of sympathetic maturity from. They were in the middle of one of their periodic truces, brought on by Joanna's disappearance, but she didn't kid herself it'd last for long. Not for the first time, she realised that she needed to have another go at building bridges with her daughter but, for now, she'd enjoy the lull in hostilities.

Sheer exhaustion took her into a deep sleep but she woke after a few hours, foul images from the combined Joanna and paedophile inquiries jabbing into her mind. Usually, she could separate it all into strands, or at least obscure it with a stiff drink or two. She couldn't resort to that, not tonight. She owed those two girls her full attention so, eventually, she gave it up and had a shower before writing Abi a note and going into work much earlier than she was needed.

By the time it came to raiding the house of paedophile Clive Inverdale, she was alert and more than ready for it. At least getting somebody in custody made her feel like they were doing something, though she still fervently hoped that the two investigations weren't linked. It was only when she was walking through the yard with Inverdale wrapped in a blanket that she realised Sheelagh Murphy was probably going to be behind the custody desk.

It gave her a moment's pause. Last night's chat in the bathroom had helped her more than she cared to admit, but she didn't often let colleagues see her in bits like that. Part of her wondered whether Sheelagh would think less of her in the cold light of day, whether she'd mention it or just be embarrassed about it. Sam certainly felt a bit of embarrassment herself, but there was something else that she couldn't put her finger on as well.

When they got Inverdale to the desk it was indeed Sheelagh on duty. For a minute, Sam stood watching as Sheelagh booked him in. She took care to ask questions about his health which, Sam supposed, someone needed to, just so he was breathing by the time they banged him up for a long stretch. It didn't seem, though, that Sheelagh was inclined to look in her direction. Shaking off the way that made her feel, and recognising she had a lot to do, she glanced to Jack.

'Guv,' she said, 'I'll leave you to it.'

As she skimmed her eyes once more in Sheelagh's direction, the sergeant briefly met her gaze. She didn't nod or smile, it was nothing more than the courteous respect of a colleague, but she was instantly relieved. Feeling a little lighter, she headed back up to CID, only to be brought back down with a bump by finding Eva waiting in her office.

Where was the line with this? Sam dearly wished she knew. It was hard to pace back and forth in her office but she found herself doing that as Eva talked about the unidentified body and how she'd expected news all night. Reiterating that they didn't know who the girl was didn't give Eva any peace – how could it? Then she changed tack.

'You arrested someone this morning,' Eva said.

She returned to her desk, facing away. 'Well, that was for something else,' she answered.

'You, Jack and the full works,' Eva persisted, 'all for one arrest. That's – that's some arrest.' When she paused, Sam waited, staring at the wall, willing her to leave the dots unconnected. 'The paedophile ring.'

Inwardly, she cursed Eva's insider knowledge then forced herself to turn around and look her in the eye again. 'I can't tell you anymore,' she said. 'Other than to say, it's nothing to do with Joanna.'

Eva stared her out. 'And would you tell me if it was?'

She nodded. 'Mmm, course I would,' she replied, feeling the words stick in her throat, just as the news of the body discovery had stuck fast last night.

'She's dead, isn't she?' Eva asked after a moment.

'We don't know,' Sam answered, opting for at least a little honesty.

'I know,' said Eva angrily, fresh tears congregating in her eyes. 'I'm her mother. Joanna's dead.'

The look on her face was too painful to bear. Sam felt wrung out all of a sudden, as though she'd actually broken some horrific news to Eva instead of just reiterating that they had none. 'Listen,' she said firmly, 'when I've got something to say you will be the first person I talk to.' To her dismay, her voice cracked but she held Eva's gaze. 'Okay?'

It took a few minutes for both of them to put themselves back together, and she still felt a little teary as they went downstairs. Bumping into the MIT officer assigned to the dead girl's case at least gave her something new to focus on. It wasn't until she was in Jack's office talking to the woman, though, that she realised she was subconsciously doing everything she could to convince herself this girl wasn't Joanna. So when the MIT officer made an offhand comment about the dead girl being the right size for Joanna she wobbled a bit before she managed to reassert her inner belief that Eva Sharpe's daughter wasn't the victim of this vile murderer.

That got her through the explanations at the crime scene too. Somehow, she managed to bury the possibility that she was talking about the death of a colleague's daughter and took refuge in her profiling skills. The more she concentrated on that, the less she could believe this was Joanna. It was as simple as that.

Back at the station, she assisted the DCI with the interview of Tim Bowman MP, another member of the paedophile ring who, conveniently enough, had just bought a new laptop and destroyed the old one. Seeing Jack perilously close to the edge with the pervert was understandable but it unbalanced her. Then again, before her chat with Sheelagh last night she'd been heading that way herself.

She was sat in her office with a cold cup of coffee when the call came through – the body wasn't Joanna. Whoever that poor girl was, she wasn't Eva's daughter and, right now, that was the only silver lining she could see. However, when she and Brandon went to talk to Eva, she was dismayed to hear her inner fears about a future body being Joanna's echoed in Eva's words. Pressing her hand to her forehead, she felt Brandon's unease across the room.

'Look at the two of you,' Eva muttered. 'I should offer you two a shoulder to cry on.'

The flash of the old Eva made her smile briefly until she was manoeuvred into a conversation about the dead girl. Eva's desire to see the body was understandable but impossible, though Sam was forced to concede a trip to the bridge where the litle girl had been found. At the moment she was finding it difficult to deny Eva anything.

Standing, Sam said, 'The press are waiting.'

'What will you tell them?' Eva asked.

'Not as much as I've told you,' she answered.

Actually having something to tell the press made for an easier ride than usual, though she still had to stave off some ridiculous questions about Eva's state of mind from the reporter on the _Canley Evening News_. She was courteous enough, realising that these vultures were a necessary evil with Joanna still out there, but she still wasn't about to tell them anything they didn't need to know, and that included whether Eva and Paul were managing to sleep with their daughter missing for three days. Once she'd finished with the reporters she went in search of Jack and the MIT officer to clear Eva's visit to the bridge, though it fell to her and Brandon to actually drive her there an hour later.

Watching Eva's demeanour was painful. From the look on his face, Brandon was finding it equally as hard. They both seemed unable to tear their eyes away as she kneeled down to place some flowers on the spot where the body had been found.

'Do we have a name for her yet?' Eva questioned.

'We don't know where she came from,' Sam answered. 'We don't know who she belongs with. She's like a little girl who fell to earth.' A thought occurred to her and she murmured, 'Angel. Until we know, we'll call her Angel.'

As Eva placed the flowers down, Sam ducked her head, unable to dismiss the idea that they could be doing this for Joanna in a matter of hours. That wouldn't happen, she told herself firmly. They'd find her; they had to.

* * *

It was Eva herself who came up with their next lead, having checked her brother-in-law's alibi and found it wanting. They pulled Antony Sharpe in the next day, though he claimed he was actually having an affair and had only lied to cover it. Uniform were on their way to pick up Michelle Richards to confirm his story but, for now, he was a viable suspect, especially with a piece of Joanna's ribbon found in his house.

Until Michelle Richards arrived, Sam couldn't focus on anything else. She sat in her office for a while but the inactivity jarred so she prowled the station instead. She was lingering outside the canteen staring at the notice board when a hand touched her shoulder.

'Ma'am?' Sheelagh said softly.

Spinning around, she managed a decent half-smile. 'Morning, Sheelagh.'

Though there was a question in her eyes, she instead said, 'Michelle Richards didn't show up for work this morning. Gary and Des are trying her home address now.'

Sam massaged her neck. 'Thanks for letting me know.'

'How's Eva doing?' Sheelagh asked as she made to move.

Recognising the unspoken addition to that query, Sam replied, 'She's coping.'

'Good,' Sheelagh said. 'I'll keep you updated, Ma'am.'

Returning to her office, she managed to fire off some emails then Ken announced that Gary and Des had found Michelle and were bringing her in. That prospect fired her up again, so when it came to the interview she was already angry. Dealing with that obnoxious woman didn't do much to calm her down, nor did seeing a psychic in the corridor when she came out of the interview room. They were getting nowhere fast with the Joanna inquiry and it seemed MIT were having similar problems with identifying Angel's body. Another interview with Antony Sharpe did nothing to help, but it was when Ken interrupted that interview to give her the proof that Michelle Richards was lying that she finally exploded.

Charging back into to confront her, she was astounded by her excuses. As if anybody could be that self-absorbed. Despite the voice murmuring at the back of her head that she needed to calm down, she planted her hands on the table and glared at the woman.

'A little girl is missing,' she shouted. 'She's eight years old. Her parents are distraught and all you can think about is saving your own miserable skin.'

Shoulders heaving, she turned to Ken, aware that she was a breath away from losing it completely. He took over, telling Michelle Richards they'd let her get away with wasting police time and generally being a heartless bitch. Sam couldn't stomach one more minute looking at her selfish face and she stormed out of the interview room, unsure of where she was going but needing to put some distance between her and that woman.

Rounding a corner, she nearly slammed into someone. She was about to walk straight past when an arm came out in front of her. Blinking, she focused on the face gazing at her – it was Sheelagh Murphy, of course it was. She wasn't surprised for a second.

'Are you okay?' Sheelagh murmured. Then, when Sam let out a small chuckle, she asked, 'What?'

She shook her head, leaning against the wall. 'You're about the only person who would've dared stop me to ask me that.'

A smile flitted across Sheelagh's lips. 'I have been known to be a little blasé about my own safety,' she replied. 'Has something happened?'

Sam glanced along the corridor to make sure no one was listening before saying, 'I can't understand how somebody's sordid little affair trumps a missing eight year-old girl.' As comprehension dawned on Sheelagh's face, she continued, 'Antony Sharpe's alibi checks out and Michelle Richards has just spent hours wasting our time. Best of all, we're no closer to finding Joanna,' she concluded with a wobble in her voice.

Sighing, Sheelagh stretched her hand over then let it drop. 'Don't give up hope, Sam.'

She swallowed and tapped her head back against the wall. 'I'm trying not to,' she said. 'It's not easy.'

'I know,' answered Sheelagh. 'But, from what I've heard, you're not one to let that stand in your way.'

'You have been listening to the gossips then,' Sam said. As a couple of uniforms came in sight, she stood up straighter and pursed her lips, the anger she felt with Michelle Richards draining away.

'There's nothing wrong with listening to the good bits, you know.' Sheelagh paused. 'Is there anything I can do?'

'I wish. Thanks though.' Reaching out, Sam squeezed her arm then added, 'I'd better get back to work.'

Sheelagh nodded before carrying on around the corner without another word. Sam took a long, steadying breath then went to tell Eva that her brother-in-law was no longer a suspect and they were back to square one.

Everything blew up later that afternoon when Clive Inverdale was shot whilst in the dock at court. Sam rushed down there to survey the scene but she found herself distracted by a call from Gina, garbled for a change and explaining that a bit of purple ribbon had been found by Gemma and Reg in a derelict building. Heart hammering, she ordered the necessaries then left the DCI dealing with the shooting as she tried to get down to Gunner Street. Every light was against her and the traffic was a nightmare. By the time she arrived, Joanna was being carried off on a stretcher with no obvious signs of life. Aghast, she turned to Eva.

'Samantha...' Eva murmured. 'She's breathing, she's breathing. She's breathing.'

Pulling her into a hug, Sam felt the dam inside her break and her tears spill out at the same time as Eva's. She couldn't put into words her relief and that didn't even compare to Eva's. Whatever happened next, they'd found Joanna. They'd found her.

When she'd deposited Eva in the ambulance with her daughter, Sam returned to the building site and ordered a full search by SOCO before phoning in the good news to Jack. He wanted an immediate meeting about the Inverdale shooting so, though drained, she dragged herself back to the station, still buoyed by the fact that Joanna Sharpe was alive.

The news had certainly got around the nick. She came in through the yard, greeted by grins and compliments, though she sure as hell hadn't done anything to deserve them. Walking towards the stairs, she caught sight of Sheelagh talking to Ruby Buxton. Hearing her coming, Sheelagh glanced over and shot her a wide smile then Sam felt Jack tap her on the shoulder and she accompanied him upstairs, filling him in about Joanna before he told her about the problems with the shooting.

They ended up in her office talking about Phil Hunter's corruption. That was the next problem to be dealt with, she supposed, but for now she needed five minutes to herself. As Jack moved to leave, she crumpled into her chair and looked over her desk. Something was amiss, but she couldn't put her finger on it straight away. Then she spotted it nestled in front of the computer screen.

'Guv, did you...' She trailed off when he turned back and shook her head. 'Never mind.'

With a puzzled expression on his face, he left. Once the door clicked closed, Sam picked up the Galaxy bar and turned it over in her hands, unable to keep the grin from her face. Then she rested back in her chair and closed her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe it was the fact that she'd arrived at Sun Hill in the middle of a crisis, but Sheelagh soon felt as though she belonged in the station and couldn't picture herself working elsewhere. The prospect of leaving once her temporary placement ended was a distant one she tried not to think about too much. At the moment, she knew for certain that if she was offered the chance to stay then she'd jump at it.

Thanks to her throwing herself into things so quickly, Inspector Gold had no qualms about sending her where she was needed. She found herself covering CSU while June Ackland was away, for instance, and she was finding her way around the borough rather neatly now. The flip side of that was that people began treating her as a bit of an agony aunt. Being roped into talking to Ken Drummond's wife after she'd discovered his double life wasn't something she'd relished, but she'd at least set some wheels in motion for him.

There was one person in the station she didn't so much mind confiding in her, though she didn't get the feeling it would be a regular occurrence. The little chats she'd had with Samantha Nixon while Joanna was missing were a bit perplexing in hindsight. From what she'd heard since, it was rare for Sam to discuss much besides the professional with her colleagues. The exception to that rule seemed to be her chats with Gina Gold, and she'd walked past the inspector's office the other night to see the pair having a drink together. Even so, Sam was famed for her boundaries and Sheelagh got the feeling she'd bulldozed her own way through them by accident.

Sure, she'd been happy to provide some respite for a superior officer at the end of her tether, but even she didn't understand the impulse that had, as soon as she'd heard Joanna was alive and en-route to hospital, prompted her to deliver a bar of chocolate up to the DI's office. Afterwards she'd felt a little silly really, wondering whether Sam would just think it was a little odd. In some respects, it was. However, the next time Sheelagh passed her in the corridor she received a big smile that left her in no doubt that her strange burst of inspiration had been a welcome one. After that, normal service resumed, though Sheelagh couldn't help but think that, should Sam ever need a sympathetic ear, she might find herself called upon. Or, rather, she would put herself in the way because, as she'd heard more than once, Samantha Nixon didn't ask for help, not even with catching serial killers.

The next time Sheelagh found herself in CID it was running like a well-oiled machine. When she walked through the door there was Sam, travelling from one desk to the next, methodical and efficient. Sheelagh hated to interrupt her flow so just edged forward until she was hovering around the whiteboard. Sam turned around to check something on it and yanked herself to a stop, a small smile on her face.

'Are you waiting for me?' she asked.

'Yes, Guv,' she replied, having noted over the last few days that Sam preferred that form of address. 'I didn't want to interrupt.'

'Come on, come through,' Sam said, walking her into the office and perching on the end of her desk. She looked remarkably well now she was fully recovered after the Joanna Sharpe investigation, Sheelagh noticed. 'What can I do for you?' Sam questioned.

She held out a file. 'Inspector Gold said you wanted to look at these suspect lists for the hit-and-run on the Larkmead.'

Sam chuckled as she took it. 'I think Gina's got that a bit backwards.'

'Ah. I could always say I couldn't find you?' Sheelagh suggested.

'No, she'd only send you back later,' Sam answered. 'Sit down, I'll have a skim through and you can be my witness.'

They settled on either side of the desk. To most people Sam Nixon's demeanour right now – hunched over the file, rattling a pen on the desk – would be a sign to rapidly retreat from her office. Sheelagh, however, knew she wouldn't have been asked to stay if Sam didn't want her there so she enjoyed the peace of five minutes away from the hustle and bustle of the downstairs corridors. She could've mentioned the fact that Abigail Nixon had been looking around the station yesterday as a topic of conversation, but she didn't. If Sam wanted to discuss her daughter then she'd volunteer the information and it wasn't Sheelagh's place to intrude.

'I was looking for you yesterday actually,' Sam said suddenly, glancing up.

'I was out on the Coal Lane Estate,' she replied. After a moment of deliberation, she added, 'I heard Abi was here for a bit of work experience.'

Sam nodded, leaning back in her chair. 'I would've liked to introduce you. Although you still might see her around – she's back in today organising some sort of drugs bust with Matt.'

Raising an eyebrow, Sheelagh asked, 'Is she following in your footsteps already?'

'I doubt it,' Sam answered with a grimace. 'I think it's related to a fight she got into yesterday when she left here, but Matt seems confident enough about her information so I'm leaving it with him.' Looking beyond Sheelagh into the main office, she called, 'Mickey, what are you doing here? I told you to go with Danny.'

Sheelagh glanced over as the DC sheepishly appeared in the doorway holding up his mobile. 'Forgot my phone, Guv.'

'Well, is Danny waiting for you?' Sam questioned.

'Yes, Guv,' he muttered, though he didn't move.

Sheelagh's eyes slipped back to Sam as she said, 'Is there something else, Mickey?'

With an indistinct mumble, he disappeared around the corner and Sheelagh stifled her laughter, though Sam was grinning too. 'What was all that about?' she asked when she could manage it.

'Oh, they're behaving like kids,' Sam replied. 'Do you know, I actually had to tell them to be nice to each other earlier? I felt like bashing their heads together.'

'Probably a more useful impulse,' Sheelagh commented. 'At least from your point of view.'

'Don't encourage me,' Sam warned, looking back to the file and making a few notes before handing it back. 'Remind Gina it's not an exact science. If it was then I wouldn't have that mountain to look through,' she added with a nod towards the tottering pile in her in-tray.

'I'll do my best,' Sheelagh said as she rose. 'See you later.'

'Bye, Sheelagh,' was the relaxed response.

* * *

The next few days were busy ones and Sheelagh found herself more out of the station than in, partnering Gemma on patrols around the Coal Lane Estate while much of uniform was dealing with the shooting of a schoolteacher. When she finally got back to the station something felt a little off, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Walking past the briefing room, she was surprised to see a figure sat inside in darkness. Flicking the light on, she encountered Reg, deep in thought and hands clasped on his knees.

'Reg?' she said, closing the door.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. 'Oh, hello, Sarge,' he murmured.

Sitting beside him, she asked, 'Is something wrong?'

'You haven't heard then?' he returned.

'Heard what? I've been out on patrol all day, I've only just got back.'

'I've reported Sergeant Boyden to the Super for taking advantage of the DI's daughter.'

'Abigail?' she questioned as her stomach jolted. 'She's fifteen years old.'

'He claims she said she was older,' Reg answered. 'But I couldn't let it go, you know? Course, he's denied it, but I know what I saw. The other night he was wrapped around her in the street – there was nothing platonic about that. Then at the school today he was unbuttoning her shirt, Sarge. What could I do?'

Sheelagh's mind was racing. She wondered what sort of nightmare Sam had been plunged into now, just when she seemed to be out of the quagmire that was the Joanna Sharpe investigation. It was every mother's worst nightmare to hear something like that about your daughter, especially when the man involved was meant to be a responsible role model.

'You did exactly the right thing, Reg,' she said firmly. 'Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It's illegal for a reason. Is Superintendent Okaro pursuing it?'

He shrugged. 'Matt claims it's not true. He had a right go at me in the canteen. I suppose they'll ask Abigail about it, at the moment it's just my word against his.'

Standing, she patted his shoulder. 'You should go home, your shift's finished.'

Automatically, he rose and she saw him out of the briefing room and in the direction of the locker room before she stopped to think about what she was going to do. She stood there for so long that she saw Mickey Webb wandering along the corridor only to be grabbed by Robbie Cryer going in the opposite direction.

'How's the DI?' Robbie asked and, despite her usual misgivings about eavesdropping, Sheelagh stepped a little closer.

'Bear with a sore head doesn't cover it,' Mickey replied. 'She's shut herself in the office, no one's going near. Most of 'em have gone home.'

Having heard all she needed to, Sheelagh went to the female locker room and got changed. Only when she was ready to go home did she actually make a decision and, instead of leaving the station, climbed the stairs to CID.

It was deserted, no one apparently wanting to stay in the vicinity of Samantha Nixon at the moment. In truth, Sheelagh doubted the wisdom of what she was about to do, but she respected the DI too much not to at least give it a go. So she rounded the corner to the interior office and found the door slightly ajar, though the light beyond was dim. Steeling herself, she pressed her hand to the door and it creaked open.

Sam, sat back in her chair with a glass of whisky, jumped and opened her mouth. Then she realised who it was and looked down at her desk. Sheelagh took that as her green light and closed the door behind her before sitting down.

'How are you doing?' she asked softly.

Sam let out a derisive chuckle and held up her glass. 'Better for this.' She took a sip then exhaled heavily, eyes still fixed on her paperwork. 'Is everybody talking?'

'Afraid so.' Sheelagh hesitated and took a moment to study the woman in front of her. It was a complete contrast to the enthusiastic, energetic copper she'd encountered in this office just the other day; now she seemed at war with herself and everyone else. 'Sam...'

The murmur drew Sam's eyes up to meet hers finally, and the mask cracked. She took another gulp of her drink then said, 'There were signs. I should've seen it coming. I mean, why would Abi suddenly take an interest in shopping one of her mates for dealing? I should've known there was more to it. But I was happy, you know?' she went on. 'She was here at the nick and she was being polite, making up for the last time. It felt for a minute like it was...normal, I suppose. That me and her were a normal mother and daughter. We're not,' she concluded, swirling her whisky around before draining her glass.

Watching her carefully, Sheelagh asked, 'What does Abi say about it? Did Matt force her into it?'

Sam stood and walked to the filing cabinet, resting against it as some sort of crutch. 'Oh, this is where it gets really good. First she claimed that he was just comforting her, that Reg misinterpreted what he saw at the school today. Her defence for Tuesday was that he'd seen it wrong. I mean, come on. If you were on one of those game shows about memory or observation, who would you want on your team?'

'Reg Hollis,' said Sheelagh with a smile.

'Exactly,' Sam replied. 'I knew she was lying so I pushed her and... Well, she claims it was consensual, that she wanted it.'

The look of disgust on Sam's face was probably matched on Sheelagh's own. 'That's rubbish,' she said firmly. 'Abigail's fifteen years old, there's no such thing as consent. He's abused his position, whatever she says.'

Nodding, Sam turned around and retrieved a bottle of whisky from the filing cabinet. After refilling her glass, she returned the bottle to its hiding place and settled back in her chair.

'I must say,' Sheelagh went on finally, 'you're calmer than I would be.'

Sam snorted. 'Does tripping him up in the yard and sticking my boot against his throat count as calm?'

Sheelagh smothered her smile. 'Well, it's not where I would've stuck it.'

Meeting her eye, Sam burst out laughing. It only lasted a few seconds but it seemed to release some of the tension in her frame. Then she muttered, 'I don't know where we go from here, I really don't. I want to string Matt up and as for Abi...' With a growl, she took another swig of whisky. 'When the Super told me, it was a visceral reaction, I couldn't breathe, I wanted to throw up. This is a nightmare. I don't even know what to do with it.'

As she made to raise the glass again, Sheelagh reached across and gently pressed her hand back towards the desk. 'That's not the answer, I can promise you that.'

'Have you got a better idea?' Sam returned.

Sheelagh squeezed her hand. 'I've seen the whole of CID go into a panic when you walk into the room,' she said. 'You're not telling me that you can't handle this because you can. I know you can.'

Staring at her, Sam questioned, 'How can you have that kind of faith in me? You barely know me.'

'Honestly? I don't know,' Sheeagh replied with a shrug. 'It's just a feeling you get sometimes, isn't it? Gut instinct.'

'I use that to catch criminals, not...' Sam trailed off and managed a small smile. 'I should go home.'

With one last sincere squeeze, Sheelagh released her hand and stood. 'Glad to hear it.'

Sam was watching her, biting down on her lip. After a moment, she rose and said, 'I need to ask you a favour, Sheelagh. It'll sound stupid but –'

'Our little secret,' she interrupted, anticipating where Sam was going with that. 'In fact, we never had this conversation. But you don't have to worry, you know. I'm not going to be blabbing anything around the station, nor do I think you're weak for being upset about this.'

'It's just... I like to keep things professional,' Sam said.

Sheelagh almost chuckled, wondering how much Sam believed in that statement and how aware she was that they'd already crossed the boundary of the professional and personal, whether she liked it or not. Still, Sheelagh could allow the illusion of a dividing line, especially if it was one of the only comforts Sam was going to get in the near future.

'Sure,' she said, heading for the door.

'Sheelagh,' Sam said abruptly, drawing her back. 'Thank you for checking on me.'

'Anytime,' she answered, holding her gaze for a second before slipping out of the door and heading in the direction of home.

* * *

The next few days were hectic. Gary Best had been put undercover at a school and there'd been a spate of burglaries on the Coal Lane since the departure of the last Ward Officer. That was something she needed to deal with but, as things stood, she couldn't think of a suitable candidate. As she was pondering that, she caught sight of Sam battering through a set of doors and striding along the corridor. She hadn't seen much of her since the other evening, though she at least seemed to have a bit of her swagger back. It might only be a mask, but Sheelagh knew how much it meant to her to have it.

'Guv,' she called, catching up with her, 'how's Gary getting on at the school?'

'Well, nothing on the dealers yet,' Sam replied, 'but it's gonna take a while to build the kids' trust.'

Sheelagh glanced sideways. 'I thought the schools were against undercover ops?'

'Well, the governors have had three ODs on their hands, they're pretty desperate,' Sam said as they passed through the next set of doors.

After a moment of deliberation, she couldn't help but ask, 'Kids haven't sussed Gary then?'

A glimmer of amusement crossed Sam's face. 'No,' she said. 'He's enjoying himself far too much for that.'

Sheelagh could imagine that easily enough, his antics in the station proving more than a match for the playground at times. It was a skill-set not often required in the MET and she had no doubt he was loving deploying it in the name of undercover work.

'Well,' she said, meeting her eye to let her know that the offer wasn't just confined to the case, 'let us know if you need any help.'

Sam glanced around and lowered her voice a touch. 'Well, actually, Sheelagh, as soon as Gary gives us the nod I'm gonna need some help coordinating the raid.'

Sheelagh slowed her step, uncertain. 'I thought Matt had been assigned.'

There was a flash of the assured Sam Nixon Sheelagh had grown to admire so quickly. 'Yeah, well, that can be undone,' she said.

They were near the bathroom and, after looking along the corridor, Sam gestured for them to slip inside. Unfortunately, there was someone else in there. It might only have been June, but Sheelagh had to quickly adjust to not having the type of bizarrely intimate conversation she'd grown used to with Sam in her first few weeks at the station. To cover her discomfort – and to make it seem as though she hadn't come in here expressely for a private conversation with Samantha Nixon – she moved past June to wash her hands.

Sam adjusted to the alteration with her usual ease, directing her comments to the pair of them. 'Matt has got away with seducing my daughter,' she said.

As Sheelagh's heart sank, June questioned, 'Isn't Mr Okaro taking action?'

'He can't,' Sam answered as Sheelagh went to dry her hands. 'Abi won't say anything against Matt. And I can hardly drag her through a prosecution.'

Though her impulse was to console her, June's presence checked that and Sheelagh recalled her promise to pretend they'd never spoken of this mess before. So, instead, she laid it on thick and said, 'A colleague's daughter's bad enough but a fifteen year old girl? It's disgusting.'

'So what are you gonna do?' asked June.

'You must wanna kill him,' Sheelagh added. 'I know I would.'

Sam caught her eye briefly, betraying approval of her approach to this frankly strange conversation they were involved in before saying, 'Well, I want him out of here, that's for sure. So can I count on your support?'

'What,' June said, 'are you gonna go after him then?'

'He's not fit to be a copper,' Sam replied.

When June glanced to her, Sheelagh reined in her initial affirmative answer and said, in a much more measured tone, 'Well, I don't know what I can do to help but...yeah.'

Nodding at Sam and receiving the smallest of smiles for her trouble, she left the bathroom. There was only so long she could pretend that she hadn't privately decided to support Samantha Nixon in this mess days ago and, besides, she had things to do if she was going to be involved in a raid at some point today.

Walking down the corridor a little later, she saw Matt chatting to an unfamiliar woman who she assumed was PC Page returning from sick leave. Her irritation at Matt, barely kept in check over the last few days, frothed closer to the surface.

'Matt,' she said, 'you're meant to be in custody.'

'Well, I don't think so,' he answered in his usual brusque manner. 'I'm on that school job if anything comes of it.'

Sheelagh repressed her smirk. 'Well, the DI's put me on that.'

'You what?' Matt asked incredulously.

'She asked for me specially,' replied Sheelagh, feeling more than a touch of satisfaction as his face contorted. Disregarding his exploits with Abigail for a minute, the rest of what she'd heard about her fellow sergeant was hardly endearing. Sexist and homophobic, he barely regarded her as a step up from her gay predecessor, and he certainly wasn't keen on the idea of her taking over a raid he expected to be a part of.

'We'll see about that,' he muttered, barging past and leaving her with the unfamiliar blonde.

'You must be Polly,' Sheelagh said, turning to her.

'Yeah, that's right,' Polly answered.

Holding out her hand, she said, 'I'm Sheelagh. Great to have you back.'

As she carried on along the corridor, Polly brought her back with, 'You don't happen to know where CSU is, do you?'

Sheelagh smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. 'Of course, this way.'

'I thought I knew this place inside out,' Polly said as they headed towards the staircase.

'There's been a lot of changes brought in,' Sheelagh replied. 'You know, since the fire.'

'Yeah.' Polly gestured back down the stairs. 'I see Matt's his usual cheerful self.'

It didn't take much for her antipathy towards Matt to rear its ugly head. Since it was the talk of the nick anyway, she didn't feel like she was betraying Sam by letting Polly in on the station gossip. 'He's just got away with seducing the DI's daughter,' she explained. 'She's only fifteen.'

Polly stared at her. 'You're joking?'

'It's the DI I feel sorry for,' Sheelagh said, with complete sincerity. 'Daughter's a wild one.'

'But fifteen is fifteen,' said Polly.

'Exactly,' she returned. 'Not that any of the blokes see it that way. Oh, apart from Reg,' she concluded with a satisfied smile.

A grin settled on Polly's face. 'Aw, good old Reg, eh?'

Smiling, Sheelagh showed her into CSU and watched her reunion with June. It was nice to see somebody happy in this place, however long it might last.

Gary came good with some information on the school drug dealers and a raid was planned at an amusement arcade in a short while. After telling the troops there was going to be a briefing, she went in search of Sam to double-check their strategy for the raid. She located her upstairs in her office, chuckling to herself. Sheelagh hesitated in the doorway, a little perplexed to find Sam in such a good humour.

Sam sensed her presence and glanced up, still smiling. 'Ah, Sheelagh, you got my message.'

'Are you feeling okay?' she asked.

Laughing again, Sam indicated for her to close the door. 'Why do you look so worried?'

'I can't think,' she replied. 'What's happened?'

'Oh, nothing,' Sam said. 'Sit down, sit down.'

'No, come on,' Sheelagh persisted as she followed the instruction, 'what have you done?'

'Very cynical of you, Sheelagh,' Sam replied, more than amused.

'Well, I saw the look on your face earlier,' she said. 'That was determination, I have to say.'

Sam's lips twitched. 'Good to know you're on my side though.'

'I don't think that was ever in doubt,' she answered. 'Now, tell me, what's happened?'

'I had Nick in here a little while ago,' Sam said after a moment. 'Matt had sent him up to do his dirty work as Fed Rep, asking me to lay off. You should've seen Nick's face. He didn't want the job in the first place, never mind coming in here and trying to intimidate me.'

'Yeah,' Sheelagh murmured, 'I can't see that working.'

Sam shrugged. 'Made me feel better, wiping the floor with him.'

'Well, Matt wasn't too happy about being pulled off the raid,' she said.

'No,' answered Sam, grinning again, 'he wasn't, was he?'

Sheelagh cleared her throat and clasped her hands on the desk. 'Now, what about this raid?'

In a moment, the professional Samantha Nixon was back. She ran through the information Gary had given them and the timeframe they were looking at. It would be a simple enough operation, going for the dealers and not the kids, though the key was keeping Gary out of the firing line if things turned nasty.

'Oh, speaking of Gary,' Sam said as they rose to go down to the briefing room, 'I doubt he'll ever be able to look me in the face again.'

'Why, what did you do to him?' questioned Sheelagh.

'You've got such a low opinion of me, haven't you?' Sam returned.

'Not quite,' she answered. 'What's wrong with Gary?'

Sam paused with her hand on the door. 'Some of the comments his new school friends were making about me and him made him blush a little.'

Snorting, Sheelagh quirked an eyebrow. 'You're never going to let him forget it, are you?'

'Well, we all have our moments of wickedness, Sheelagh.'

As soon as they were out of the office, Sam morphed back into the model police officer, checking in on a few other cases as they proceeded down to the briefing room. Once everyone had assembled, it was a pleasure to see her in full flow, reciting Gary's information in much more commanding tones than she had upstairs. Nick earned a rebuke when he entered late and, though Sheelagh shot him a disapproving look of her own, she barely repressed her smile at the idea of Sam's earlier confrontation with him.

'Sheelagh?' Sam said after she'd completed her portion of the briefing.

Stepping forward, she handed posters round to the team and explained, 'Gary will observe and when the dealers are on site will attempt to steer them outside. Luke, Tony and Nick will then pick up the dealers and the rest of us will sort out the kids. Any questions?'

They all shook their heads and Sam said, 'Right, you don't need me to tell you this is a very sensitive operation. If all goes well we'll be heroes, if not we'll be dirt.'

'What else is new?' Tony asked, raising a collective chuckle.

Sam was first off the mark, eager to get the operation underway. She did, however, find time to make a comment to Nick as she passed, one that didn't exactly make him look more comfortable. With most superior officers, Sheelagh would dislike that blatant dominance, but she'd let it slide for Samantha Nixon at the moment.

Leaving the briefing room, she was walking towards the locker room to change back into her civilian clothes when she caught sight of Des Taviner putting his arm around Polly Page and giving her a kiss. An idea began to percolate in Sheelagh's mind as she heard what he was saying.

'Here, listen, if you need anything now that you're back you just come and see me, all right?'

Polly grinned. 'Cheers, mate.'

Sheelagh walked through the middle of them, budging his arm up. 'Aren't you the lucky one, Pol?'

As she continued along the corridor, the idea that had gripped her refused to be easily banished. It wouldn't go down well with Des but, then, very little did from what she'd heard. In the meantime, she had a raid to coordinate with Sam.

* * *

Once Tony, Luke and Nick had vacated the van, it was a little quiet, though it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Sheelagh guessed that most officers caught in this situation with DI Nixon would find it excruciating, but she wasn't one of them. They were around the back of the amusement arcade, with the three PCs around the front and a van waiting a few streets away. Sat probably closer than was entirely necessary on the long seat, Sheelagh could feel the energy radiating from Sam. She was keen to get involved in the raid, the copper in her irresistibly peeking out as she checked with Nick. Her frustration when he reported no activity was endearing, though Sheelagh naturally kept that thought to herself.

Suddenly, the radio crackled and Tony's voice rang through: 'DI Nixon from 595.'

Sheelagh glanced at Sam, suddenly animated as she replied, 'Go ahead, Tony.'

'Hope I'm wrong, Guv,' he said. 'Think I've just seen your daughter approaching my location.'

Inwardly wincing, Sheelagh dragged her gaze away from her friend. Then Sam demanded, 'Is it her or not?'

'I couldn't get a clear sighting,' Tony answered, 'but she's gone into the arcade.'

Reluctantly, Sheelagh looked back to Sam and muttered, 'We'd better call it off.'

Sam bit down on her lip. 'No, it's not her. It can't be.'

From her voice, Sheelagh wasn't convinced she didn't think it was a probability. It was more hopeful than anything and Sheelagh certainly didn't think it was out of the realms of possibility that Abi would be visiting a dubious amusement arcade given her recent troubles. Nevertheless, she couldn't – and wouldn't – try to overrule Sam. She just had to hope that Tony was mistaken.

As the two of them watched intently, kids began spilling out into the yard. Gary was amongst them, though he seemed on edge. After a moment, a blonde girl in a Harvey Wallace Comprehensive uniform stepped out of the doors. Beside her, Sam let out a soft growl and Sheelagh grimaced. Their luck had just run out. Now all they could hope was that Gary would get out of there in one piece. Seeing Abi, he quickly made for the gate. From this distance, Sheelagh couldn't hear what was said but she saw the upshot – Abi identified Gary as a copper and all the kids suddenly went for him.

Sam brought the radio up to her mouth. 'All units – go, go go.'

The van pulled up and a dozen officers piled out and yanked the students away from Gary. Sam jumped out of the passenger-side door and Sheelagh followed her, disregarding all the fleeing pupils in favour of matching pace with her superior officer. When Sam jumped over a struggling body, so did she, managing to keep up with her until she slowed to a halt inside the arcade. She'd caught sight of Abi sidling up to Luke in a very provocative manner. It wasn't clear whether Abi knew her mother was watching, but she definitely knew she was in the vicinity at least.

'Very masterful,' Abi was saying. 'You're kinda cute, do you know that?' Reaching up, she stroked Luke's cheek. 'You find me attractive, I know you do.'

When she tried to kiss him, Luke pulled away. 'Abi, stop it,' he insisted. Quick as a flash, Abi's attitude altered and she slapped him hard.

'Oi, that's enough,' Sheelagh called, edging past Sam to defend one of her relief. Luke took charge, reading Abi her rights as he took her into custody.

Sam watched the proceedings apparently shell-shocked, as if she was watching someone else's daughter not her own. After a moment of deliberation, Sheelagh placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She was worried it would seem too forward, seem too much like crossing that invisible boundary that Sam wanted to keep between them. But, finally, Sam reached back and covered her hand with her own. It lasted only for a second but Sheelagh appreciated the gratitude it betrayed.

'I need to...' Sam glanced back, her mental faculties running slow. She swallowed. 'I've got to get back to the nick.'

Sheelagh nodded, rubbing small circles into her back. 'Come on. Let's get it over with.'

The distance between them reasserted itself on the journey back to the station and they went their separate ways in the yard, Sam latching herself onto the group of prisoners that included Abi and Sheelagh hanging back with the rest. When she finally got inside, Sam had left custody and Sheelagh booked in her own prisoners under the smug gaze of Matt Boyden. She briefly wondered what had passed between him and Sam when Abi had been booked in, but, judging by the smirk on his face, he thought he'd come out as the victor.

As Sheelagh was leaving custody, she was caught by Luke. 'Honestly, Sarge,' he said. 'I did nothing to encourage Abi.'

She glanced at him. 'From what I saw, you don't have to worry.'

'I just don't want to be put through the mill like Sergeant Boyden,' he explained.

Sheelagh winced. This situation was just the vindication Matt needed to perpetuate the rumour that his indiscretion with Abi wasn't his fault at all. Most of the station was looking for an excuse to believe him, and Abi had just handed it to him on a plate.

Kerry came through the doors to their right, saying to her husband, 'Well, well, I've been hearing all about your exploits.'

'He conducted himself perfectly,' said Sheelagh.

'Sure he did, Sarge,' Kerry answered in a tone she didn't fully understand. That puzzle was wiped from her mind as Sam darted out from an office.

'Sheelagh,' she said. 'Do me a favour. Handle Abigail's case.'

There was a moment when she considered acquiescing without argument, but then she remembered she had a duty to the relief as well as Sam and pointed out, 'Luke's perfectly capable.'

'Well, I know you'll be discreet,' Sam said.

That was the clincher and Sheelagh knew she'd deal with Abi's caution and process her as rapidly as was appropriate. However, she still felt the need to suggest, 'Perhaps you should drop this thing with Matt.'

Sam snorted. 'Er, no chance.'

Though she understood her bullishness, she had to issue another note of caution. 'But Luke's worried he's next in line,' she said.

'Well, he's no need to be,' Sam answered. 'He's innocent.'

With that, Sam continued along the corridor and Sheelagh watched after her, sensing the artificial composure in every step. It wasn't that she didn't sympathise – she did – but she could sense how this would play out now and she was concerned how that would reflect back on Sam.

Of course, she decided it would be easier for her to deal with Abigail in the end and save Luke any embarrassing interviews. Once in the interview room, though, she was faced with a younger version of Samantha who, unfortunately, didn't seem as eager to confide in her as her mother.

'You do understand why you're here, Abi?' Sheelagh questioned. 'You've been cautioned for assaulting a police officer. It's a serious offence.'

'Then why are you only cautioning me?' Abi retorted.

Sheelagh pressed her lips together. 'PC Ashton doesn't want to press charges.'

'Against the DI's daughter? I'm sure he doesn't.'

'It's nothing to do with that,' she answered. 'But I do want to make sure you realise what kind of trouble you could be in if you do something like this again.'

Shrugging, Abi remained stubbornly silent. Sheelagh extracted the responses she could then accepted she was going to get no more out of her. Taking her back to the custody desk, she found that Matt was still on duty. She asked him to discharge Abi then turned half-away, ostensibly to check along the corridor. She didn't miss the way he looked at her nor his little, 'Well done,' which he thought she couldn't possibly hear. The perils of having three teenagers had sharpened her hearing over the years and it was certainly coming in handy now.

With the formalities done, Sheelagh gestured for Abi to wait near the office, intending to go and get Sam. Before she did, however, Abi grabbed her arm.

'Is he okay?' she asked quietly. 'The other officer, the one who was undercover.'

Sheelagh stopped short. 'He is, luckily. But you deliberately put him in danger, Abi. Why did you do that?'

Abi lowered her eyes. 'I don't know.'

'Well, I don't buy that,' replied Sheelagh. 'You're a smart girl, and I don't believe you want to see anyone hurt.'

There was a pause then the teenager raised her chin again. 'What, no one?'

Sighing, Sheelagh said, 'She loves you a lot.'

'No,' Abi argued, 'she loves her job and this place. You don't know her.'

'I don't,' she conceded, recalling her promise of that invisible line drawn between Samantha and herself that prohibited clarification on that point. 'But I did see her today, Abi, and that was enough to show anyone that she loves you.'

'Not enough anyway.'

'Is that what this was about?' Sheelagh questioned after a moment. 'You wanted her attention, like when you ran away?'

Again, Abi shrugged and her eyes flickered in the direction of Matt still at the desk and unsuccessfully trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Joining the dots of that escapade and this one in her mind, Sheelagh patted Abi on the shoulder and left her stewing. Slowly, she climbed the stairs up to CID, wondering what, if anything, she was going to say to Sam on the matter. The department was quiet again, but the door to Sam's office was shut fast. She knocked and then, when there was no response, opened the door gingerly. She found it wasn't rudeness on the part of the DI but genuine ignorance. Sam was staring into space, the only noise in the office coming from the hum of the computer. Sheelagh stepped inside and closed the door quietly before sitting opposite her and clearing her throat.

That did the trick. Sam jumped and then blinked at her. 'How long have you been sat there?'

'I literally just sat down.' She paused. 'Are you okay?'

Sam exhaled, massaging her temple. 'I've had the headmaster on at me.' With a grim chuckle, she continued, 'You can tell how bad a day it's been right there, can't you? We pulled in the kids, he's not happy.'

'We didn't have a choice,' Sheelagh replied. 'They were kicking seven bells out of Gary.'

'I know, I know. Doesn't make it any less of a mess. You were right,' she went on, 'we should've aborted the operation when Tony spotted Abi.'

'No,' she said firmly, 'there wasn't a chance to safely pull Gary out of there. It all happened too quickly.'

Sam scanned her face, probably searching for a lie. 'Maybe,' she said finally. 'Have you finished with Abigail?'

'Yeah, she's waiting downstairs for you. She wasn't very chatty.'

'Didn't she say anything that might...' Trailing off, Sam leaned back into her chair. 'Sorry.'

Sheelagh gazed at her sympathetically. 'You need to talk to her.'

'Yep.' Sam placed her palms flat on the desk then seemed to draw herself back together. Within seconds she looked like she was spoiling for a fight. Standing, she said, 'Thanks, Sheelagh. Thanks for today.'

'I didn't do anything,' she replied as they left the office.

'You did,' murmured Sam, 'and I appreciate it. I'll see you.'

With that, she picked up her pace and stormed out of CID. Sheelagh winced at the anger in her stride but maybe that was what mother and daughter needed right now. She made her way down to the locker room, eager to get home after a difficult day. As she walked, though, she recalled the decision she'd come to earlier and remembered that she had some news to pass on to Des Taviner. Passing a smug Matt in the corridor, she caught up with Des on the way out of the station and informed him that he was going to be the new Ward Officer on the Coal Lane Estate. To say he was unimpressed would be an understatement, and that was the only reason Sheelagh managed to leave Sun Hill with a smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A day working with Matt Boyden had tested Sam's patience to the limit. If sleeping with her daughter wasn't bad enough, Abi's own antics at the amusement arcade the day before had ensured that Matt had been able to turn the tables and claim that he was the injured party in all of this. His smug confession that he'd had sex with Abi did nothing but confirm what she already knew and reignited a ball of fury in her stomach every time she allowed the thought to cross her mind. Sitting in a car with him for an obbo was her idea of hell. Only when they had a suspect banged up in the cells could she allow herself to relax by getting as far away from Sergeant Boyden as possible. Back at the nick, she was thinking about heading home when Gina caught her in the corridor.

'Have you had a chance to look through the reports for that armed robbery on the Cockcroft?' she asked.

'It's on my to-do list,' Sam replied, massaging her neck.

'How far down exactly?'

'Well, now you're asking. I'll have a look before I leave but from what Danny said it's an ongoing investigation and we're not going to need uniform involvement until we get some concrete leads.'

'That's what I like to –' Gina began but she was broken off by Debbie McAllister joining their convoy.

'Guv,' Debbie said, practically blanking Gina, 'I need authorisation on those requests I left on your desk this morning.'

'I've barely sat down today, Debbie,' Sam replied.

'They are urgent, you know.'

Sam bit down her retort and said, 'I'll see what I can do before close of play but I'm not making any promises. Excuse me,' she added as Debbie stopped, sidestepping her without another word.

Gina kept walking alongside her and when they were around the next corner commented, 'Moments like that remind me how you arrived in the nick of time. Debbie McAllister as Acting DI would've had me begging for early retirement.'

Chuckling, Sam was about to reply when PC Buxton tapped her on the shoulder and asked, 'Have you got a minute, Guv?'

She spun around. 'Not really, Ruby. Could you pass whatever it is onto DS McAllister?'

Ruby nodded. 'Sure, Guv.'

As they carried on moving, Gina stifled her smirk. 'Ooh, well done.'

'Debbie must be at a loose end,' she replied, 'if she's badgering me for signatures.'

'She spent the day preparing for the gang rape trial,' said Gina. 'I get the impression Kerry had more success with the girls than she did.'

'Well, it's Kerry's case,' Sam said. 'She's done well with it up till now.'

'Exactly,' Gina returned then cleared her throat. 'Oh, any news about when Eva's back?'

'Not yet but –'

Sheelagh's head popped out of the Sergeants' Office. 'Guv, at some point can I catch up with you?'

For the first time, Sam's feet and brain stilled, startling Gina who carried on moving and had to backtrack. Smiling at Sheelagh, Sam suggested, 'Why don't you meet me upstairs in five minutes?'

'No, no,' replied Sheelagh, 'it's not urgent. It's just a query about one of DS Hunter's cases that landed on my desk. His notes are a bit vague, that's all.'

'I'm off for a few days,' Sam said. 'Grab a couple of coffees and we'll go through it now.'

'Are you sure?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Course,' she answered, earning herself a wide smile before the sergeant disappeared back into the office. After a moment, she realised she was still stationary and that Gina was staring at her. She got her feet moving again and glanced at her friend. 'What?'

'What does somebody have to do to get that reaction?'

'I don't know what you mean,' she said.

'Well, you've always got time for Sheelagh, haven't you?'

Sam shrugged. 'It's Sheelagh, isn't it? She doesn't waste your time.'

'That a dig?' Gina retorted.

'To answer your question,' Sam said with a grin, 'I spoke to Eva yesterday and they're all okay. She's making the most of the time with the kids. Coming back's the last thing on her mind at the moment, and I can't say I blame her after all they've been through.'

Gina nodded. 'With you there. Anyway, I'll see you in a couple of days.'

Smiling, Sam watched the inspector double-back in the direction of her office then she slowly climbed the stairs pondering Gina's words. It was true that she always had time for Sheelagh, as she'd put it, but in the short time since the sergeant had arrived at Sun Hill she'd earned that sort of respect. Sam knew that Sheelagh had made herself indispensable throughout Sun Hill, but she hoped that nobody had cottoned on to how indispensable Sam had suddenly found her. Gina was right with her unspoken criticism, she realised – she did treat Sheelagh differently to most of her colleagues.

During the mess with Abigail yesterday, she'd been relieved that Sheelagh was the one by her side. She knew, at least, that she believed the allegations against Matt, even considering Abi's actions at the arcade. Sam didn't like sympathy, but the distinction between that and support was a fine one and, somehow, Sheelagh always landed on the right side. She had a knack for seeking her out when she needed to talk, even when Sam didn't realise she needed to. Her attempts to maintain distance between them were illusory at best, especially if Gina had noticed the lack of it. The sensible thing to do would be to draw back completely, to keep her professional life as separate from the personal as possible; well, as separate as it could be with Abi getting into trouble all the time.

By the time she reached her office that was what she'd decided to do. She sat down and checked the emails that had popped up in her absence. Then the door creaked and she looked up to find Sheelagh balancing two coffees with a file under her arm. Jumping up, Sam relieved her of the file and one of the coffees, putting them both on the desk and gesturing for her to take a seat. After glancing out into the bustling office, Sam shut the door and returned to her desk.

'You look like I feel,' Sheelagh remarked. 'I heard you were shot at.'

Sam leaned back in her chair. 'I'm still not sure which was worse – the gun or being trapped with Matt all day. No, actually, it was definitely working with Matt. What's up with you?'

'Oh, Des Taviner,' said Sheelagh. 'I put him on the Coal Lane as Ward Officer.'

Chuckling, Sam said, 'Nicely done.'

'Seemed like a good idea at the time. He hated it, of course, until this morning when a pretty woman walked into the office with a noise complaint.'

Sam snorted. 'Typical.'

'It was alleged he helped her throw her neighbour's stereo off a balcony, which is a bit beyond the call of duty and I challenged him on it. So now he's taking her wayward son under his wing to prove a point,' Sheelagh added. 'God knows what he's getting up to down there.'

Reaching for her coffee, Sam said, 'It bothers you.' When Sheelagh hesitated, she continued, 'Whatever he does won't reflect on you, don't worry about that. There's no controlling him and his priority's his own skin. He might sail close to the wind, but he usually drags himself back.'

There was a strange look on Sheelagh's face. 'You make him sound like Matt.'

'In some ways, maybe,' Sam replied. 'But I'd actually trust Des around my daughter. He'd look, but he wouldn't be stupid enough to touch.'

'How is Abi?' Sheelagh questioned after a moment.

'Quiet,' she said with a wince. 'I'm going to try and talk to her over the next few days. It might do us good or we might rip each other to shreds.' Studying the woman opposite, Sam asked, 'Is everything else all right, Sheelagh? You seem distracted.'

'What? No, no, I'm fine.' She smiled and, finally, it morphed into something more realistic than not. 'So this case of Phil's...'

Sam recognised the diversionary technique for what it was but let it slide. After all, she hadn't exactly admitted that Abi's real problem was her lack of knowledge about her father. Sheelagh must've heard on the grapevine that it was a factor, but her delicacy had prevented her mentioning it. Sam could return that favour by not prying when something was evidently playing on Sheelagh's mind. She vaguely remembered that this was how friendships worked, though her earlier thoughts about redefining this relationship into a strictly professional one had gone right out of the window. Well, what did it matter if she and Sheelagh were friends? It was a different prospect to her professional friendship with Gina, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

'Thanks for sparing me the time,' Sheelagh said as she rose.

Waving that away, Sam replied, 'Don't worry about it. I'll see you in a few days.'

'Have fun.' When Sam chuckled, she added, 'Well, try to anyway.'

'Yes, Sergeant,' she said, watching her leave then shaking herself and picking up the paperwork Debbie was so anxious about.

* * *

If there was one thing Sam knew after kicking around at home for a couple of days it was that she couldn't function without her job. Perpetual silence from Abi had prompted her to go out into the back garden and start pottering around aimlessly. To say she didn't have green fingers was an understatement, though at least the sight gave Abi a laugh when she got home from school. It was the closest to a thaw they came and she was grateful to get back to work, even if she was on a course and then in court for the next couple of days.

She had a bit of time before setting off for the conference centre so she slipped into work, intent on checking that everything was running okay in her absence. What with the DCI away as well, she was a little apprehensive about what she'd find. The paperwork mountain on her desk had trebled at least but there were no red flags waving yet so she didn't have an excuse to postpone the course.

At a bit of a loose end, before she left she decided to track Sheelagh down. Her first port of call was the Sergeants' Office naturally enough, but when she popped her head around the door she didn't see who she wanted to.

'Looking for me?' Matt queried, cocking an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. 'Hopefully I'll never be that desperate. Is Sheelagh about?'

'Why do you want to know?'

'Er, because I do,' she retorted. 'Look, do you know where she is or not?'

'Probably simpering after her new mate.'

'Excuse me?' she questioned.

'Des Taviner,' he clarified with a smirk. 'They're turning into a right double-act. If you ask me, there's something going on between them.'

'Don't judge everyone by your moral standards,' she said, turning to leave.

'How is Abi?' he called after her.

The only way she persuaded herself not to rise to it was by picturing herself burying her boot into his groin. Stepping away from the office, she slowly climbed the stairs, a little deflated. When she got back to the office she wasn't planning to linger in case somebody caught her for a word, but before she could collect her bag there was a knock on the door. Turning, she braced herself for attack then smiled as she caught sight of Sheelagh.

'You were looking for me, Guv?' Sheelagh asked politely.

The tone startled her – it was much more impersonal than she'd grown used to in recent weeks. It was an escalation of her distraction from their last conversation, leaving Sam wondering what had happened in her absence.

'It was nothing really,' she said. 'I was just checking you didn't have any problems with that case of Phil's.'

'Really?' Sheelagh stepped inside the office, a small smile slipping onto her face. 'No, we made those arrests and passed it onto Mickey. Of course, he then got himself kidnapped so it may have fallen by the wayside again.'

Sam snorted and perched on the edge of the desk. 'I heard about that. I missed the arrest of the year with Ron Gregory, didn't I?'

Sheelagh seemed to be relaxing by the second. 'It was hairy for a while there,' she said. 'I was on the scene when we found Mickey and Robbie. One of the more surreal arrests I've ever been a party to, with Gina commandeering an ice cream van and playing the music all around an industrial estate to get a location.'

'Jack missed that bit out when he called me,' Sam commented.

'Well, it did the trick, thank goodness,' Sheelagh answered.

'On the plus side, we got Gregory, though I suppose that means I have to have Phil back. I can't Mickey believe was stupid enough to go after Gregory without backup,' she added.

Sheelagh's lips twitched and she raised an eyebrow. 'Because you'd never do anything silly like go after a dangerous criminal on your own, would you?'

Sam grimaced. 'You've been listening to the gossips again, haven't you?'

'No, that I heard on day one,' replied Sheelagh.

'That was ...different,' she said, crossing her fingers that Sheelagh wouldn't make her defend that remark. Though she saw the amusement in her blue eyes, she didn't challenge her, at least not this second. After considering the words carefully, she questioned, 'Anything else going on around here? Des Taviner behaving himself on the Coal Lane Estate?'

There was a definite alteration in Sheelagh's demeanour. She pasted on a false smile and murmured, 'He's not doing as badly as I thought he might.'

That was equivocal, but Sam decided not to press it, at least not right now. Checking her watch, she realised she was going to be late for her course if she wasn't careful.

'Sorry, Sheelagh,' she said, 'I've gotta go. I'm on a public awareness course today and I'm in court tomorrow, possibly the day after as well.'

'Of course,' Sheelagh answered, stepping towards the door a little too eagerly. 'See you, Guv.'

Sam watched her escape, more than a little intrigued, then, as DS McAllister saw her standing in the doorway, she grabbed her bag and strode out of the office with as much authority as possible. It wasn't quite enough to shake Debbie's questions off entirely, but it did mean she escaped CID without giving more than a few monosyllabic answers to the other woman.

* * *

The course was as useful as a chocolate teapot. Once she'd finished listening to the one-upmanship and general biting remarks, she felt an irresistible urge to return to the nick and do some actual work. At the very least, she could clear her emails down and sign a few forms. It would have the dual effect of making her feel like she hadn't wasted the day while keeping her away from Abigail for a few more hours.

CID was quiet. Debbie was still around along with a few other officers, but Sam purposefully went into her office and closed the door. While she wanted to be in work, she didn't fancy another pointless conversation with someone trying to get the better of her – she'd had enough of that at the conference centre. With Debbie McAllister there was no luxury in winning; it was too easy.

After half an hour or so of working by her desk lamp, there was a knock on the door. Sam stiffened then finally sighed and called, 'Come in.'

It wasn't Debbie on the threshold as she'd expected, or any other of her officers. It was Sheelagh, dressed in civilian clothes, apparently ready to go home, apart from the fact that she was standing in Sam's doorway and not hurrying to her car. Seeing the look on her face, Sam rose and closed the door. Then, putting a hand on her arm, she steered her into a chair and walked to her cabinet. Sheelagh followed her gaze, not objecting, so when Sam withdrew the bottle and two glasses she was confident the gesture wouldn't be rejected. Instead, glancing back, she found a pained smile on her friend's face. After pouring two generous measures, Sam passed one over and then settled in her own chair.

'Cheers,' she said, raising her glass.

'Cheers,' Sheelagh echoed, following suit then taking a sip and inhaling deeply. 'Tell me about Pat Kitson,' she said finally.

Surprised, Sam tilted her head. 'Kitson? Why?'

'I can trust you, can't I?' Sheelagh asked after a moment. 'Sorry, that's a stupid question, of course I can.'

Sam was barely following this. She'd never thought of Sheelagh as frivolous, but asking about Pat Kitson then wondering aloud whether she could trust her was a bit bizarre as far as she was concerned. Was Sheelagh about to confess something that she couldn't this morning, something about why she seemed so uneasy? Perhaps, but Sam doubted it. The distracted woman she'd encountered this morning was a different animal to this one; something had certainly happened in the interim.

'You can trust me,' Sam told her firmly. 'Why do you want to know about Pat Kitson?'

Sheelagh sighed. 'I've just sent Nick Klein off on sick leave. He's admitted to taking drugs.'

Sitting up straighter, Sam said, 'I know Nick's struggled with Cass's death, but I don't know about using it as an excuse for something like that.'

'It wasn't an excuse,' answered Sheelagh. 'He wasn't using it as mitigation but... He loved her. He hasn't healed, he's nowhere close to healing.'

'I'm not surprised,' she said softly. 'Kitson was... No one should have to see the person they love treated that way, dumped in the river, washed up on the shore like a piece of rubbish.'

Sheelagh was watching her. 'He said he held her.'

'Yeah, he found her,' Sam replied, massaging her forehead. 'I can't deny it was traumatic for him. And then... His judgement lapsed,' she went on with difficulty, 'and he put his faith in Pat after Simon Kitson's death. He thought they were on the same page, both grieving for something they didn't understand. I think I interrupted what might have been her seeking revenge on Nick for the part he played in arresting her brother.'

'What do you mean?' asked Sheelagh.

Sam sipped her whisky. 'I went to see her at her home. At that point I had my suspicions. Nick was there, he'd given her a lift back. He seemed...out of it. Grief-stricken, maybe. Once he'd gone, she put a pair of scissors away. I do think sometimes that if I'd arrived five minutes later...'

'That wasn't her MO though,' Sheelagh commented.

'No,' she conceded, 'but, to Pat, losing Simon was like losing her life anyway. She didn't care much about her own freedom, her reason for living had gone so why not take the people with her that she blamed for Simon's death? Nick, me...'

She shuddered at the memory and absently rubbed at her wrists where the bonds had held her fast. Sheelagh placed her glass on the desk and reached across. Sam allowed their hands to touch before she withdrew and tried to smile.

'Why did you put yourself in that position?' Sheelagh murmured.

'Glory,' she replied with a shrug.

'No, that's too simplistic for you,' answered Sheelagh. 'There's more to it.'

'Why do you say that?' Sam returned.

Sheelagh held her gaze. 'Because you're dodging the question for a start.'

Chuckling, she brought her glass to her lips again to buy herself some time. Her mind was running over the things Duncan Lennox had called her after Pat Kitson's arrest. She'd allowed them to touch her momentarily at the time then buried them away and tried to forget them. But there was more than a grain of truth to them, if she was honest. Then again, her motives hadn't been as completely selfish as he'd alleged.

'It wasn't supposed to be Pat Kitson,' she said finally. 'It wasn't supposed to be a woman, it didn't fit. I got it wrong. Part of me wanted to understand how a woman could be capable of that, get inside her head. And the rest of it was egotistical glory,' she concluded.

Tapping the rim of her glass, Sheelagh questioned, 'Did you get inside her head?'

'No, not completely,' she replied shortly. 'I was close but...no. She did what she did out of some warped incestuous love for her brother, beyond that... I don't wonder Nick's struggling with it,' she added. 'Cass's only crime was falling in love with the brother of an obsessive and dangerous woman.'

'And Nick loved Cass,' Sheelagh murmured.

Sam leaned back and sighed. 'We don't all get what we deserve in this life.'

'No,' agreed Sheelagh, 'we certainly don't.'

'I hope Nick can move on,' she went on after a moment. 'If he can't...'

'I know,' Sheelagh said. She drained her glass and reluctantly stood. 'I suppose I should go home. What with Nick and pensioners pointing guns at me, it's been a funny day.'

Sam also stood, shooting her a puzzled glance. 'Who was pointing a gun at you?'

'Oh, there was a spate of burglaries on the Coal Lane today, I was investigating them with Nick. One of the victims had kept her late husband's service revolver, she was waving it in the burglar's face when we got there. She had to put her specs on to read our warrant cards.'

She couldn't help but laugh, feeling better for the release. 'That could've been dicey.'

'Well, it wasn't loaded luckily,' Sheelagh replied, 'but you couldn't tell that by looking. Thanks for the drink,' she went on.

'Anytime,' Sam answered. 'A friendship works both ways, doesn't it?'

A true smile settled on Sheelagh's face for the first time since she'd entered the office. 'I've heard that,' she said. 'Night, Sam.'

'Goodnight, Sheelagh,' she murmured, sinking back into her seat.

* * *

When criminals were actually put away, that was when she enjoyed being in court. She had a voicemail from Jack at the end of the first day of evidence informing her of the accident involving Brandon Kane's ex-wife and Debbie McAllister's investigative zeal. Jack was worried about alienating one of the most promising members of the team by subjecting him to an intrusive and unnecessary investigation but, since Sam couldn't get back to keep Debbie in check, he called in MIT to assist. She had no idea how it was going, though she wasn't going to enjoy refereeing between Brandon and Debbie in the likely event he was found innocent of any involvement.

After an arduous cross-examination about evidence, she was grateful to go straight home after court and unwind in front of the television. She wasn't completely reformed, having a few files tucked in her bag that she'd been working through at court. She persuaded Abi to eat with her then, when her daughter rapidly excused herself, she finished up her paperwork, even managing a decent night's sleep afterwards. She got into work, hearing the full story about the Tanya Fisher investigation from a downbeat Ken Drummond. Apparently, Debbie had made a complete hash of things, accusing Brandon of all sorts while his ex-wife's fall and subsequent death had been finally ruled an accident. Sam couldn't blame Brandon for taking leave to acclimatise to his new circumstances as a single parent with two grieving children, though she knew she'd miss him on her team for a while.

A number of new files had landed on her desk in her days away. She took a peek at a few of them, but her eye was caught by the top one – an accusation of sexual assault against PC Gemma Osbourne formalised the previous day. Reading it, with the details of the Fisher investigation ringing in her ears, she decided to make it her priority. Her first step was to speak to Gemma about the allegation, though she wasn't in the station and Matt Boyden was distinctly unhelpful as to her whereabouts.

Returning to her office, she made a few phone calls before PC Osbourne appeared in her office, jittery and her voice wavering. Sam stood, deliberately trying to intimidate the young PC. The only way she could get a true read on what was going on was by making Gemma defend herself.

'I suppose you know what this is about,' Sam said.

'Sandi Booth?' Gemma muttered.

'Yeah,' she replied. 'She's made her complaint official. She's accused you of indecent assault.'

'The only reason that Sandi Booth said that I assaulted her was because she thought we'd let her off the shoplifting charge,' Gemma said, unable to keep her voice level. 'That's all there is to it, Guv, you must know that.'

'I don't _know_ anything, PC Osbourne,' she returned. 'And unless you possess psychic powers I don't know how you can make that statement either. So,' she went on, 'do you want to tell me exactly what happened?'

Gemma gritted her teeth. 'I arrested Sandi Booth, I put her into a police car. She then went off on one to say that if all this got out her career would be ruined etc etc. I stared out of the window, made sympathetic noises, end of story.'

Sam was watching her intently. 'Right, so how long did you and Sandi spend in the car on your own?'

'Five minutes,' Gemma answered, 'possibly less. You don't really believe that I assaulted that woman, do you, Guv?'

'This isn't about what I do or don't believe,' Sam told her. 'It's not personal. I'm just following procedure. You of all people should know that – you're a police officer.'

'Yeah, so why do I suddenly feel like a suspect then?' Gemma demanded.

For a moment Sam considered arguing but it wouldn't do any good. She simply indicated that the constable could leave and stood thoughtfully in her wake. Sitting back at her desk, she looked over the file again and a smile crossed her face. Sheelagh had received the complaint – a good witness if ever there was one. Without hesitation, she went down to the Sergeants' Office then, finding it empty, took a punt at the canteen. Sheelagh was there, at a table of her own, seemingly immersed in her own thoughts. Sam got herself a coffee then went to join her.

'Morning,' she said, making Sheelagh jump. 'Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.'

Shaking her head, Sheelagh replied, 'I was miles away. What can I do for you?'

'You dealt with Sandi Booth's complaint yesterday, didn't you?' she asked.

Sheelagh pursed her lips. 'I did, yeah.'

'What are your thoughts? I've read your report but I trust your gut instinct.'

'Do you?' Sheelagh questioned with a smile then continued, 'I booked her in and there was no hint of a complaint then. She was too busy giving Gary her autograph. When she made the allegation she was...'

'Go on,' Sam pressed. 'You know I'm not trying to trip you up. I'm about to visit her and I value your judgement.'

Inclining her head, Sheelagh said, 'She seemed very satisfied with herself. But, of course, all I could do was record the complaint and pass on to CID.'

'Course,' said Sam, sipping her coffee. 'But in your expert opinion?'

Sheelagh's lips twitched. 'If you can call it that.'

'I can,' she assured her.

'Well, in that case, I would support Gemma to the hilt,' answered Sheelagh.

Sam reached across and touched her hand. 'That's all I needed to know. Thank you.'

Nodding to Sheelagh, she returned upstairs and finished her coffee in her office before putting her coat on and leaving to visit Sandi Booth. The car journey through three sets of road works and a heavy jam did nothing to quell her irritation. Nevertheless, she had to give Sandi Booth a fair hearing, if only for decency's sake. She swept aside Gemma's opinion – and Sheelagh's – as soon as she knocked on the door; though when it was opened by someone who looked as though she'd just stepped off a catwalk in Aberystwyth she felt her prejudices returning.

'Miss Booth?' she queried, holding up her warrant card. 'DI Nixon, Sun Hill Police.'

'Listen, darling,' Sandi sneered. 'I was released without charge, right? So if you want to do more interviews then I suggest you get my solicitor.'

Sam gritted her teeth and forced some civility into her tone. 'I'm not actually here about the shoplifting, Miss Booth.'

'I was not shoplifting!' Sandi retorted.

'Er, would you mind if I came inside?' Sam questioned.

There was a long pause before Sandi muttered, 'Sure.'

'Thank you,' she said, stepping inside the gaudy house and looking around. 'I'd like to ask you a few questions about an incident you allege took place yesterday.' She picked up a magazine with Sandi's face emblazoned on it and lied, 'Ooh, it's very nice. It was involving a PC Gemma Osbourne,' she added.

'Incident?' Sandi repeated. 'Is that how the police are describing sexual assault these days?'

Sam picked up a picture of her with Ant and Dec and repressed her snort. 'Erm, well, Gemma Osbourne is adamant she didn't assault you,' she said.

'So, what, does that surprise you?' demanded Sandi.

Turning to face her, Sam replied, 'I'm surprised that the accusation has been made against her. She's a very good officer with a promising career ahead of her.'

'Yeah, likewise, Inspector. You know, look – best regional weather reporter 1999.' She gestured to a framed certificate across the room. 'I was a nominee. I live or die by my reputation.'

'You're a weathergirl?' Sam questioned.

'I'm a forecaster,' answered Sandi.

'Sorry,' she murmured, clearing her throat. 'Sandi, were you worried that a prosecution might jeopardise your career?' Her gaze slipped back to that so-called award. 'Cos there is no prosecution now so presumably that's not a concern anymore.'

Sandi snorted. 'Look, have you any idea of the indignities I had to suffer at the hands of the police yesterday? I mean, I was thrown into a cell for crying out loud.'

'I know it's not pleasant,' Sam said, her irritation beginning to show, 'but neither is it fair to take all this out on the arresting officer.'

'I'm not taking this out on anyone,' answered Sandi. 'What, are you calling me a liar?'

Sam met her eye. 'Let's just say I'm questioning your interpretation of yesterday's events, Miss Booth. You know,' she went on, 'bottom line, it's your word against Gemma's. And without any witnesses or any evidence it's gonna be very difficult to prove what actually happened one way or another.'

Before Sandi could respond her phone rang. 'It's probably my agent,' she said. Sam tried to rein in her ridicule as she answered the phone with, 'Hello? Hi, Marty, darling, I'm all yours.' She looked back to Sam and added, 'I want that girl to apologise to me.'

Now she really couldn't contain her urge to roll her eyes. With the barest of courteous smiles, she slipped out of the house, grateful for oxygen away from that woman's ego. She was still wondering whether every weathergirl in the country was that self-absorbed when she got back to the station. It was a disturbing thought. What was it about minor celebrities that gave them a superiority complex? If you thought that much of yourself and only had a pretty face to back it up with then you were heading for a fall – at least Sam hoped so anyway.

Sheelagh saw her passing the Sergeants' Office and stepped out to the corridor to greet her. 'How did it go with Sandi Booth?' she asked.

Sam dug her hands into her pockets and leaned her shoulder against the wall. 'You were right,' she answered. 'There's nothing in it except maliciousness. She didn't like being arrested and she wanted to take it out on Gemma.'

'I'm glad,' replied Sheelagh. 'Gemma's a good officer. But how did Sandi know she was gay?'

'No idea,' Sam said. 'I mean, she's not shy about it, but I doubt she mentions it to prisoners. Could've been station gossip, I suppose. That'd explain why she didn't raise the complaint when you first booked her in. Somehow I don't think she would've tried the same thing if a man had arrested her.'

'Well, if Gary's reaction was anything to go by, she just wouldn't have been arrested.' Sheelagh shook her head in disgust.

'Maybe that's the difference between men and women,' Sam said after a moment. 'They're bowled over by a pretty face, but Gemma, even being that way inclined, doesn't bat an eyelid and just gets on with her job. Sandi wants an apology,' she added.

Sheelagh sighed. 'Do you think Gemma will agree to that?'

'Do you?' Sam returned.

'No,' Sheelagh conceded. 'She hasn't done anything wrong, after all. Some people won't apologise when they're in the wrong, let alone when they're in the right.'

'I should know,' said Sam with a grin, 'I'm one of them. I'll put it to her anyway. I'll let you know how I get on.'

'Good luck,' Sheelagh called after her.

When she tracked Gemma down she took her up to her office, aware that most of the station was supremely interested in this allegation. Even up there they weren't immune as several sets of eyes followed them through CID.

'I've been to see Sandi,' Sam began. 'Basically, she'll let the matter drop if you agree to apologise.'

Gemma stared at her. 'She wants me to apologise?'

'Yeah,' she replied, already sensing where this conversation was going.

'She wants me to say sorry to her?' Gemma questioned incredulously.

'You don't actually have to do it face to face,' Sam tried.

'I don't believe this,' Gemma muttered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Debbie and Mickey hovering nearby, obviously trying to eavesdrop. 'Excuse me, Gemma.' She moved to close the door then said, 'Look, if we make a formal apology we can draw a line under this whole thing.'

Gemma snorted. 'And what would _we_ be apologising for exactly?

'It's not an ideal solution,' she answered, 'but it means that the whole allegation will be erased from your record. You don't want this affecting your future career prospects.'

'I haven't been found guilty of anything,' Gemma objected. 'It can't harm my career.'

'Technically, no,' Sam admitted, 'but we are operating in the real world, Gemma, and people do form judgments.'

'Well, as far as I'm concerned it can stay on my record because I'm not apologising for something I didn't do.'

Sam inclined her head. 'If that's what you want.'

'With respect,' said Gemma, 'what I want is for you to let everybody know that I didn't assault Sandi Booth.'

With that, she fumbled for the door and went hurtling out of the office. Sam sighed, a little frustrated but understanding Gemma's attitude. If it was her in this position then she'd certainly be as obstinate. Plus, having met Sandi Booth, she could comprehend that the prospect of apologising to that fame-hungry liar was a pretty miserable one.

Sitting at her desk, Sam massaged her forehead. Sandi had made the allegation to barter her way out of a shoplifting charge, but that charge had been dropped. Now it was simply, as she'd said to Sheelagh, pure maliciousness on her part. No charges had been brought because no stolen goods had been found on Sandi at the time of her arrest. Gemma's statement from the previous day suggested that Sandi had thrown away all the evidence during the pursuit and, with the case being relatively minor, Sandi had been released. However, both Gemma's evidence and the very fact of Sandi bothering to concoct the assault allegation at all indicated that there was something to the shoplifting accusation. An idea began forming in her head and refused to go away.

A little while later, she left her office. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for until she wandered into the yard and saw Des Taviner grabbing Gemma's arm. He looked genuinely concerned about her and Sam's plan solidified.

As Gemma drove away, she called, 'Des.' Gesturing him over, she waited until he was closer before she continued, 'I need you to do something for me.'

'I'm snowed under at the moment, Guv,' he replied.

'Yeah, well, you'd be helping a friend out,' she said. Comprehension dawned on his face and she nodded for them to head back inside. 'I need you to collect and look through some tapes for me. Boring, I know, but it's the best shot we've got of making this go away.'

He glanced sideways. 'What are you planning on doing with them, Guv?'

'Better you don't know,' she returned.

With a smirk, he received his instructions and disappeared. Sam checked in with the various ongoing investigations in the department and settled down with her own mountain of paperwork. She was in her office later that afternoon when Des walked in holding a box of tapes.

'Right, did you find anything?' she questioned.

He began rummaging. 'I think if you have a look at tapes three, five and eleven you'll find some very interesting viewing.'

She took the tapes he held out. 'Well done, Des.'

As he left she could barely contained her pleasure. She deposited the files in her hand and went to watch the tapes. Interesting viewing indeed, and she barely stopped to collect her coat before leaving the station to pay Sandi another visit.

This time, it seemed, she was less able to conceal her disdain for this egotistical maniac. Sandi let her in full of pompous expectations that would've irritated her even if Gemma had been guilty. After answering the door, Sandi retreated to the sofa where she proceded to sit like a queen on one of the ugliest sofas Sam had ever seen.

'I'm afraid Gemma Osbourne has refused to apologise,' Sam said.

'Right,' Sandi said with a sneer. 'Well, you know, I made a very generous offer. But if she wants to turn her little nose up then she can damn well get investigated for indecent assault.'

'As I said before, without any witnesses or evidence this is going nowhere.'

'Well, I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who'd be very interested in my story, even if you're not,' Sandi retorted.

Though she'd expected a certain amount of resistance, Sam still felt her ire rise. 'I'm sorry?'

'The press,' said Sandi.

'This isn't a game,' Sam told her, 'this is someone's life we're talking about, an officer's career. I thought the whole point of this was that you didn't want any adverse publicity.'

'Yeah, but I am a victim of a sexual attack by a gay Met officer. So I'm sure I'll get a fairly sympathetic response from the public, you know?'

'Not when they find out you're lying,' Sam pointed out.

Sandi smirked. 'Oh, come on, love, there's no evidence, there's no witnesses so no one's gonna find out.'

Well, she'd certainly given her the opportunity to back down. She suspected she was going to enjoy this far too much.' Do you mind if I use your video?' she asked.

'What?' Sandi asked as she walked towards it and crouched down.

'Right,' she said, sliding the tape into the slot and reaching for the remote, 'which channel?'

'Eight.'

Barely containing her smile, Sam set the tape running. 'You'll like this,' she said as the CCTV flickered to life on the screen. There was Sandi shoving some stolen clothing into her bag. 'Oh, there's one for your show reel,' she said then fast-forwarded to the next good bit. 'Oh, there's another one. What is it they say?' she queried, glancing sideways. 'No publicity is bad publicity? I'm not sure I believe that.'

'This is a set-up,' Sandi hissed.

'No,' she replied, 'this is new evidence.'

The wheels started turning in her brain before she said triumphantly, 'Hang on, erm, you've already let me off so you can't use this.'

'Do you know, you're right?' She paused, deliberately allowing her to savour her satisfaction. 'I can't,' she went on conversationally. 'I don't know how many copies of this I've got back at the station. I'll have to make sure I destroy them all. I wouldn't want them to fall into the wrong hands. Then again, it might be too late. People catch on we've got tapes of Sandi Booth, the face of Channel London –'

'I know exactly what you're trying to do,' Sandi interrupted.

'Well, it's just a matter of time before some copper passes one onto his journo friends,' she added.

'This is blackmail,' said Sandi.

Sam repressed her grin. 'I'd take the judicial system over trial by media any day of the week.'

Standing, Sandi spat, 'That's it, I am going to phone my solicitor.'

'To say what?' Sam queried. 'As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened.'

She looked to her, enjoying the defeat that crossed her face. Without another word, she pulled out a form from her pocket and passed her a pen. A muscle working in her cheek, Sandi dashed off her signature. Sam took the form, retrieved the video tape from the machine and headed for the door.

'It's been a pleasure,' she said as she left.

Her delight didn't diminish by the time she got back to the station, but she tried to rein it in a little. She couldn't have people seeing her that amused, it wouldn't do her reputation any good. Nevertheless, as she was looking for Gemma, she walked past the Sergeants' Office and saw Sheelagh inside. Grinning, she planted her hands on the door frame and leaned into the office.

'Hiya,' she said.

Sheelagh glanced up. 'Uh-oh.'

'What?' she returned innocently.

'I've seen that look before,' Sheelagh answered. 'What've you done?'

'Sandi Booth's withdrawn her complaint,' she said.

Pushing back her chair, Sheelagh stood and rounded the desk. 'Okay, what did you do?'

She cleared her throat and tried to stop smiling. 'It wasn't all me,' she admitted. 'Des Taviner was happy to help when I told him it was for Gemma. He checked the tapes from the shopping centre and found some interesting footage. Inadmissible as evidence, obviously, but Sandi saw the peril of that footage leaking out into the public domain.'

Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'You do realise we arrest people for that kind of thing?'

'Because they're rubbish at it,' Sam replied. 'If the criminals were as smart as us, we'd be out of a job, Sheelagh.'

'Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you,' Sheelagh said, though she was grinning too now. 'I'm glad Gemma's off the hook. Well done.'

'I'd better find her and tell her the good news.' Swinging back out into the corridor, she spared one last look for Sheelagh. 'You'd have to work really hard to get on the wrong side of me,' she told her.

'I'll bear that in mind,' Sheelagh called after her and she continued on her journey to find Gemma with a wide smile on her face.


	5. Chapter 5

Sheelagh had a restless night, not for the first time in recent weeks. Even Patrick noticed, and that was saying something, though it was true he didn't think much about it. Sheelagh did though. She didn't like feeling unsettled, especially when she couldn't exactly pinpoint the cause. Sure, she'd been a little on edge at work since Des Taviner had made a pass at her, but they'd got past that. Investigating that spate of pensioner burglaries on the Coal Lane had helped and she could look at him as a colleague again.

CID were clamping down on crack dens today and she was co-ordinating one of the raids with SO19. Although she hadn't seen Sam this morning, Gina said that she'd requested her as a safe pair of hands for what could be a tricky operation, and she was prepared to throw herself into it. However, she was required first in custody where Tony handed her some property that had been left in the cells. Once she realised what it was – and who had caused it to be left there while looking, as Tony put it, 'worse for wear' – a latent concern reignited. Finally, she managed to grab hold of Nick Klein and summoned him into her office.

'I thought I told you to come back to work when you felt better,' she said.

'Yeah,' he muttered. 'I do.'

'So how come you failed to conduct a proper search on a prisoner?' she questioned.

Unease flickered across his face. 'Why, what happened?'

'We found two stolen credit cards in the cell of a prisoner you'd arrested after he'd been released without charge.'

'I'm sorry,' mumbled Nick.

'Sorry doesn't cut it,' Sheelagh replied. 'I want to know why it happened.'

He swallowed. 'I didn't sleep last night, Sarge. I've been prescribed anti-depressants and sleeping tablets and, well, the side effects are pretty bad.'

She sighed, but she got the impression she'd let him off too easily the last time they'd been at this crossroads. Realising he needed to be certain of the seriousness of the situation, she said, 'I feel for you, Nick. But I have to ask myself how much use you are to us when you're like this. Now, you go to a doctor and you get this sorted. Once and for all.'

'Okay,' Nick murmured as she opened the door for him.

She barely had time to think over that conversation as she absorbed herself in the raid. At least Nick wasn't involved in the operation so she didn't have to keep a special eye on him as well as focusing on what she actually needed to be doing.

SO19 burst into the house first, taking the occupants by surprise. Sheelagh and her officers followed, she and Honey Harman taking the upstairs with a couple of armed officers. SO19 had deemed one of the rooms clear so she entered alone, intending to check for evidence of drug use to catalogue later. Before she realised what was happening, she'd been grabbed from behind, something hard and metallic pressed into her throat.

She couldn't see her attacker, but she couldn't think about much beyond the fact that she couldn't breathe. Desperately, she clawed at the bar, feeling her body grow heavier as her lungs screamed for oxygen. In the distance she could hear someone calling for her then the door burst open and Des entered. When he met her eye Sheelagh saw pure loathing there before he focused on her assailant.

'If you don't let her go, mate, I'm gonna kill you,' he said. 'I'm being very serious, but I might reconsider if you put the bar down.'

Sheelagh felt herself drifting, as though she was about to lose consciousness. Maybe Des saw that in her eyes. He darted forward, jamming his body into her attacker and giving Sheelagh chance to rush out of the way. As she gasped for breath, he slammed him against the wall.

'Stay still, you maggot,' he yelled.

The look on Des's face scared her – he did look like he was about to beat the junkie to a pulp. 'Des!' she shouted, clutching her throat.

Keeping one hand on the prisoner, he looked back to her and snapped, 'I think the word you're looking for is thank you.'

She nodded then, without sparing her another glance, he dragged the man out of the room and almost threw him down the stairs. Sheelagh followed slowly, trying to ignore the gnawing in her stomach and focusing on the pain under her chin instead. Brushing off concern from Honey Harman and Gary Best, she slotted into the van and passed the journey back to Sun Hill in silence.

With as much professionalism as she could muster, she supervised the booking-in of several of the prisoners then checked the constables knew who they were interviewing and what they needed to pass up to CID. Only then did she succumb to the urge to retreat into the bathroom. She removed the top layers of her uniform then unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt, ashamed to see her hands were shaking.

Before she could bear to turn her eyes to the mirror, though, the door opened. She jumped and was about to rebutton her shirt when she realised it was Sam who had steamed through the door.

'Sheelagh,' she said, the worry in her voice obvious, 'I've been looking everywhere for you. Gary told me what...' Trailing off, Sam halted and reached out a finger to her chin, tilting it upwards. 'Let me see.'

She was unused to being scrutinised like this, though the novelty was increased by the fact that it was Samantha Nixon's forehead creased with concern. After a few moments, Sam let her hand drop and Sheelagh exhaled.

'Not too bad,' Sam said.

Sheelagh glanced into the mirror and had that fact confirmed. Her eyes met Sam's reflection and she tried to smile. 'It just shook me up a little, that's all.'

'No wonder, you're allowed to be shaken.'

'Would you be?' she returned.

Sam leaned against the sink. 'Maybe in front of you, on the proviso you didn't say anything.'

'Does that work both ways?' asked Sheelagh.

'Course,' Sam said with a twitch of her lips.

Swallowing, she redid the top buttons on her shirt and set about pulling her uniform back together. 'You should get back to work. I hear you're snowed under.'

Sam nodded. 'Aren't we always? Oh, let me tell you,' she added after a moment, 'don't ever go to the funeral of a criminal with Gina. Quips at the graveside, we were lucky to make it out of there in one piece.'

Sheelagh chuckled and replied, 'Seems like we've both had a morning of it.'

Though she smiled, Sam met her eye seriously and asked, 'Okay?'

'Okay,' she confirmed.

Sam squeezed her arm then they left the bathroom together. Sheelagh turned right and Sam turned left, though she spared a smile over her shoulder before being absorbed back into the Sun hill hustle and bustle. For her part, Sheelagh felt stronger again and threw herself into assisting with the interviews of arrests made at the crack house.

The rest of the day was busy yet strange. She stayed around the station, tying up loose ends and finishing her outstanding reports, though she felt a little detached from it all. She didn't see Des, which was fortunate because she didn't know what she'd say to him. No matter how hard she tried, the memory of his lunge at her was returning with full-force now. Not just the lunge either, but how easily they'd gelled together on the investigation with the Chinese illegal immigrants which had triggered it in the first place. She hoped going home and getting immersed in the latest household squabbles would help, though she doubted it would dispel the problem completely.

She'd changed and was heading along the corridor when a voice from Gina Gold's office caught her attention. Sam, a glass half-hidden behind her back, had stuck her head out of the door.

'Sheelagh, you off?' she asked.

Nodding, she retraced her steps. 'I'm shattered. I heard you arrested a dead woman.'

'Typical day really,' Sam said with a grin. 'Let me see,' she added, gesturing to her neck.

Sheelagh tilted her chin up and gingerly touched her throat. 'They're fine, honestly.'

'Mmm, okay,' replied Sam. 'Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Goodnight,' Sheelagh murmured, watching her slip back into the office and perch on the edge of Gina's desk. Then she got herself moving – she really was desperate to get out of this place today for one reason or another and there was no need to hesitate.

* * *

A night at home drove most thoughts of work from her mind. One reason why she never saw herself rising further through the ranks was because she could switch off when she left the station. Gina didn't, she knew, and certainly Sam didn't. Sheelagh loved her job, but if it started consuming her life then she'd have to reconsider her career choices.

Walking along the corridor the next morning she was caught by Sam coming the other way. Before either of them managed so much as a hello Nick and Gary steamed down the corridor.

'Guv,' Nick said, 'have you got a minute?'

Sam exchanged an amused glance with Sheelagh before querying, 'What's the problem?'

'We've been robbed,' Gary replied. 'Our stuff's been taken from the changing room.'

'What stuff?' Sheelagh questioned. Then she looked to Sam to double-check she didn't consider this interfering on a matter brought directly to her. The look on her face told her she plainly didn't mind her input.

'Gary's personal organiser and my camera,' NIck said. 'It's worth five hundred quid, Guv. Someone's taken them, they must have.'

'Have you any idea who it might be?' Sam asked. When the pair glanced at each other, she pressed, 'Well, do you know anyone who saw these items?'

'No, Ma'am,' said Gary.

'Were they in your lockers?' Sheelagh queried.

'In my bag on the top,' Gary answered.

'Yeah, mine too,' added Nick.

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'I know it's a police station but that's a bit relaxed.'

'Well, it's never been a problem before,' Nick retorted. 'Look, what I wanna is are we insured and, if so, do I get my five hundred quid back?'

Sheelagh couldn't help but smile at him. 'Is your personal property insured by the Met? I think you can guess the answer to that, Nick.'

With half a look sideways, she began walking away, Sam's chuckle ringing in her ears. Before she rounded the corner, she heard Sam promise, 'I'll look into it.'

The fact that Matt's five-year old granddaughter was in St. Hughes after ingesting crack spread around the station like wildfire. Every time a prisoner was brought into custody it was invariably the topic under discussion, though Sheelagh did her best to combat it amongst her officers. She might not like Matt very much, but she didn't wish his current predicament on anyone: searching for the daughter that had dumped his unconscious granddaughter in A&E before fleeing to save her own skin.

When Nick and Cameron brought in a mild-mannered man for assaulting a teenager at a war memorial she realised she was close to a capacity problem in custody. Nick muttered something about taking the case to the DI so she requested him to tell her it was urgent, sure the comment would be taken as only half-serious.

Sure enough, when Sam came downstairs with Ken, she asked, 'Is this rapid enough for you, Sheelagh?'

'Only if it's setting a precedent,' she returned, reaching for her keys.

Sam smiled. 'You don't ask for much, do you?' As she rounded the desk, heading for the cells, she added, 'I never thought I'd say that I feel sorry for Matt Boyden.'

Sheelagh glanced at her. 'You too?'

'Feels strange, doesn't it? I've just been with the Super, giving him Sophie's belongings taken from the crack den.'

'The poor kid,' Sheelagh murmured as she unlocked the gate.

Sam just nodded her agreement and Sheelagh brought out Richard Thornton, one of the more polite prisoners she'd had to contend with in her time on custody desks. The interview wasn't a long one, though it was long enough for another couple of prisoners to come in, leaving her capacity problem worse than ever.

'Can I bail him?' she asked.

'Yeah, he's admitted it,' Sam said with a nod, following Ken as he moved off.

'Short fuse merchants,' he said. 'Who needs 'em, eh?'

Though her attention was mostly on her keyboard, she still heard Sam answer, 'I think those kids really pushed his buttons.'

As the pair disappeared off along the corridor, Sheelagh smiled. That was one of those peculiar moments when other people got to see what she'd seen on her first day – that Samantha Nixon did have a heart under all those defences.

A few hours passed fairly quietly, for Sun Hill anyway. Then Matt Boyden dragged his daughter in, filling custody with a cacophony of expletives that didn't diminish once Sheelagh got her into a cell. When Polly and Danny arrived she was relieved to hand her over, though Amy was contrary, now not wanting to leave the cell when she was required to.

'Come on,' Sheelagh said, even as Amy tried to shrug her off.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she handed her over to Danny then she returned to the desk, making a note of when Amy had been taken for interview before paying any attention to the prisoner Nick and Cameron had just brought in.

'Hey, Sarge, we've got a teenage drunk we found at the Civic Centre,' Cameron said. 'DI Nixon's daughter.'

Looking up sharply, she found Abigail practically asleep in front of her, held up by the officers on either side.

'Oh, great,' she muttered. 'Guess I'd better find the DI.'

Nick and Cameron carried Abi through to the examination room, putting her on the bed under Sheelagh's watchful gaze. She then left a constable covering custody while she went to locate Sam. It could've been done the other way round, she supposed, but she suspected this news might be best coming from her.

Sam was in her office, working as diligently as ever, a stray hair curled around her chin. Sheelagh knocked on the open door and when Sam looked up and saw her she was about to smile before she caught sight of the look on her face.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Abigail's downstairs,' Sheelagh said without preamble, 'she's been brought in drunk.'

Leaning her head back, Sam groaned at the ceiling. 'Is she okay?'

'She's sleeping it off at the moment. Cameron said she'd been sick at the Civic Centre, but nothing since.'

Sam stood and massaged her neck as she rounded the desk. 'Can I take her home?'

'Not yet,' Sheelagh replied, 'I think you'd need a forklift truck. I'll keep an eye on her for you, let you know when she wakes up.'

'Thank you,' Sam said sincerely.

Waving that off, Sheelagh returned to custody. She'd only been back at the desk trying to finish up a report for a few minutes when Matt arrived.

'All right, Matt?' she asked.

'Yeah, listen,' he said, 'I was hoping I might be able to have a word with my daughter.'

Sheelagh eyed him carefully, aware of the friction between them earlier when he'd brought her in. 'What kind of word?'

He sighed. 'I don't know. Try and find some common ground I suppose.' When she hesitated he added, 'Please.'

Putting her pen down, she said, 'Okay.' She rounded the desk and moved towards Gary. 'Keys, please.'

He was already unhooking them. 'Keys,' he said then he glanced to Matt respectfully. 'Sarge.'

His loyalty amused her – sometimes he really did have the demeanour of a puppy dancing around ready to please his owner. As he scampered off, she began to unlock the gate.

'Just stay here for a second, will you?' she said to Matt. Hearing movement outside her cell, Amy had started yelling, the noise echoing once again around custody as it had earlier. Sheelagh unlocked the grill on the door and looked into the angry face of Amy Boyden. 'What is it?'

'I want bail,' Amy snapped. 'I wanna see my daughter and I've been in here for hours.'

'We need to verify your address,' Sheelagh said.

'Well, get on with it then,' demanded Amy. 'You're doing the dirty for my old man. Well, I'll tell you what. I wish he'd curl up and die. This whole thing's a fit-up. But he is not getting Sophie. Not now, not ever.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Sheelagh saw Matt's response to that tirade and slammed the hatch shut on Amy's malevolent face. 'Matt,' she called, but he was already steaming out of custody and she had to stop to lock the gate. 'Matt!'

It was no use. He was gone and, to be fair, perhaps it was for the best. Samantha Nixon was someone she could talk to and reason with; Matt Boyden wasn't and she didn't particular want him to be. Sympathy for his troubles with daughter was the only connecting factor between Sheelagh's high opinion of Sam and her low opinion of him.

Remembering her promise to Sam, Sheelagh went through to the examination room. Abi was still exactly where they'd left her, probably calmer in sleep than her mother ever saw her awake. The resemblance between the pair of them struck her now and she smiled as she moved to the clipboard beside the bed to note the time she'd checked on her. Then Abi's arm dropped from the bed. It wasn't a natural sleeping motion, Sheelagh knew that straight away. Immediately, she dropped the clipboard and leaned over the teenager.

'Abigail?' she said, checking her pupils. 'Abigail?'

Abruptly, Nick appeared in the doorway. 'Sarge,' he said, 'there's been a little bit of an oversight.'

She glanced to him. 'Did you search this one when you found her?'

'No,' he replied. Desperately, she began checking Abi's pockets, even as he continued, 'You see, the thing is I found a wrap of cocaine on that boy at the war memorial and I forgot about it. Can I book it in please?'

'What do you mean, you forgot?' she asked incredulously.

Nick swallowed. 'Cameron, he was my witness and he's reminded me –'

To her dismay, Sheelagh found an empty pill bottle in Abi's bag. 'Look,' she interrupted, 'she's not drunk, she's taken an overdose. Get an ambulance.' When he hesitated, she jabbed an arm in the direction of the custody desk. 'Now!'

Her training kicked in and she rolled Abi onto her side, checking her airways even though her heart was hammering. If something was to happen to Abigail while she was in her care she'd never forgive herself. She tried to focus on Abi, her voice shaking as she repeated her entreaties for the teenager to stay with her.

A minute later Nick was back. 'Ambulance is on its way.'

'Get the DI,' she said.

After one long look he took off into the depths of the station. Sheelagh stroked Abi's vomit-streaked hair back and kept talking to her. It was only a matter of minutes before Sam barrelled into the room, eyes wide and disbelieving, followed by Ken, Nick and Cameron.

Sheelagh edged out of the way. 'The ambulance will be here any minute.'

Sam picked up the pill bottle then pressed one hand to her mouth and the other to Abi's forehead. Glancing to the three men hovering by the door, Sheelagh gestured for them to stop staring. When they stepped out of sight she put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Sam briefly looked to her, confusion etched on her face, then dropped the pill bottle and stretched her spare hand to Sheelagh's. They stood like that until a flurry of footsteps in the corridor signalled the arrival of the paramedics and Sheelagh automatically moved away to preserve the last vestiges of Samantha Nixon's mask. Abi was transferred onto a stretcher under her mother's watchful gaze then Sam met Sheelagh's eye one last time before she followed the ambulance crew out of the examination room.

All of a sudden Sheelagh felt lightheaded. She leaned against the cabinet and let her eyes fall on the clipboard she'd been making notes on not fifteen minutes earlier.

A throat cleared in the doorway. 'You okay, Sarge?'

She took a long breath and blinked a few times to focus on Ken. 'Course.'

'I'm sure she'll be fine,' he said. 'Both of them,' he added with a wry smile.

Nodding, she tried to fight through the fog in her brain. 'Listen, that case of yours, the aggravated assault at the war memorial?'

'What about it?'

'It turns out Nick and Cameron found a wrap of cocaine on the victim,' she replied. 'Nick didn't log it, but it might alter your case.'

'Thanks, Sheelagh,' he said. 'Better not do anything without talking to the DI about it. I'll head down the hospital.'

'Great,' she said, trying to inject some normality in her tone. It didn't help.

Returning to the custody desk felt bizarre. Her mind was really on the journey to the hospital with Sam, though she suspected they'd hear pretty rapidly if the worst happened. Ken was following her there and he'd stay as long as he needed her – or as long as she permitted him to. In an ideal world Sheelagh would've gone herself but there was no one else to cover custody tonight.

To her surprise Sam and Ken appeared an hour or so later with the young assault victim in tow. Sam didn't look in her direction, keeping her head down and hovering in the background as Sheelagh booked the boy in. They took him straight for interview without an extraneous word being exchanged. Only when the interview room door closed did Sheelagh reflect on how bizarre that was. What was Sam doing back here so soon? She looked hollow, but she was here. That meant Abigail was certainly out of the woods, though what that meant for mother and daughter Sheelagh had no idea.

The interview was fairly short. Sheelagh made the effort to work while it was going on but, in truth, she was thinking far too much about Sam. When the door opened again, though, Sam scurried off out of sight and Ken approached the desk with the teenager.

'We're releasing him without charge,' Ken said.

Sheelagh nodded and went through the process with only half of her mind on the job. Before they left the desk, she asked, 'How's Abi?'

Ken glanced along to where Sam had disappeared and lowered his voice beyond the hearing of the prisoner. 'There may be problems with her liver, but she's conscious.'

She paused. 'And Samantha?'

Sighing, he muttered, 'You care about her, don't you?'

'Yes,' she said without hesitation.

'Well,' he answered after a moment, 'she's putting on a good front now, but it wasn't so good at the hospital. She's insisting on seeing Mr Thornton and settling this case tonight.'

'Of course she is,' Sheelagh said, shaking her head. 'Will you let me know how you get on?'

He smiled his assent then took the boy by the arm and led him out into the yard. Sheelagh's shift was nearly over and she was grateful to finally get into the locker room and change into something a little less constricting than her uniform. She was shaking her hair down when her phone beeped with a message. It was Ken letting her know he was taking Sam back to the hospital. Gathering her belongings together quickly, she made the split-second decision to join them there. Her intrigue about what was going on with Sam would only keep her awake all night if she didn't.

When she got to St. Hughes, though, she found herself waiting in the car park, uncertain of whether she should invade Sam's privacy like this. She honestly had no idea how it'd be received so she stood in sight of the main entrance over-thinking it. Then she spotted Ken first and Sam a few paces behind him. Sheelagh's instincts took her towards them and Ken smiled when he caught sight of her. Sam's face showed surprise, but it was stained by something Sheelagh couldn't identify.

Ken glanced between them. 'My services no longer required?'

'I've got this,' Sheelagh said, keeping her gaze on Sam.

'Night, Guv,' he said as he walked away. 'Night, Sarge.'

Stood in the evening breeze, Sheelagh suddenly didn't know what to say. Sam seemed on her way to catatonic, tears brewing in her eyes and her gloved hands tying themselves in knots. Sheelagh put an arm tentatively on her back and steered her towards the passenger seat. She had to physically guide Sam into the seat and, after a moment of deliberation, she leaned across and put her seatbelt on for her. Sam blinked at her before she closed the door, though she didn't protest. In fact, she didn't say anything when Sheelagh slipped into the passenger seat. Since she knew the vague area where she lived she didn't press her on details, just turned left out of the car park and drove along in silence.

Abruptly, Sam said, 'I've done something terrible.'

Sheelagh shot her a sideways glance, perturbed to see tears coating her cheeks. Indicating the car into the next available gap on the road, she turned to face her. 'What do you mean? This isn't your fault, what Abigail's done.'

'It is,' Sam murmured. 'I never meant to... A lie for the right reasons is still a lie. I've gotta live with the truth, she shouldn't have to.'

Frowning, Sheelagh rested a hand on her arm. 'Why don't you tell me what you're talking about, hmm?'

Sam shook her head and her eyes filled with fresh tears. 'I can't. You'd hate me for it.'

'I don't think that's possible,' she replied.

'Trust me. You're a good person,' Sam added, yanking one of her gloves off and scraping the tears from her face. 'I don't want you to hate me.'

'I wouldn't,' she said quietly, but she could see it wasn't sinking in. 'Listen to me,' she said, waiting until Sam's green eyes reluctantly met hers in the gloom, 'I'm not pressuring you to tell me anything. But I want you to know you could.'

Holding her gaze, Sam murmured, 'Maybe someday.'

'I'll take that,' Sheelagh answered, reaching to squeeze her ungloved hand briefly before indicating the car back onto the road. 'You may have to direct me from here.'

With each command she gave, Sam seemed to regenerate. By the time she instructed Sheelagh to pull over she was more herself. Rustling in her bag for her keys, she said nothing, only glanced over and bit her lip. Sheelagh shook her head to tell her that words weren't necessary. Sam just smiled weakly, swallowed, and then slipped quickly from the car. Sheelagh waited until she was safely in the house before she finally turned in the direction of home and felt the stress of another day in Sun Hill begin to tell on her.

* * *

It was a struggle to get going the next morning after another restless night, though Sheelagh was adept at hiding all that behind a sunny smile. If nothing else, seeing her so cheery early in the day startled both her children and the officers under her charge so it wasn't a wasted effort.

She was startled when, as she was walking from the Sergeants' Office, Sam suddenly fell into step beside her. Quickly surveying her, she noticed how recovered she looked today. Perhaps she was still worn behind the eyes, but she was determined to put on a mask, even – or maybe after last night – especially in front of Sheelagh. It was one of those funny things; sometimes the closer you got to someone the more they thought they had to protect themselves from you. Or, more likely in this case, you from them.

'You know, I realised something when I got home last night,' Sam said.

Sheelagh glanced to her, a little uncertain. 'Oh?'

Smiling, Sam said, 'All you did for me yesterday and I never even bothered to thank you, did I?'

'It's not necessary,' she said.

'No, of course it is,' replied Sam. 'I can't thank you enough, Sheelagh. We both can't. You saved Abigail's life.'

'No, no,' she protested.

'I mean it,' Sam said. 'If you hadn't have found her... Honestly.'

With a smile, she accepted that. It wasn't just finding Abi and calling the ambulance that Sam was thanking her for. In her roundabout way she was thanking her for the rest of the evening too, along with trying to draw a line under that haunted conversation they'd had in the car the night before.

'Well, look,' she said as they stopped walking at a junction of corridors, 'I'm really glad she's okay.'

There was relief on Sam's face, but something else too as she murmured, 'Yeah.'

That look prompted Sheelagh to reach out and rub her arm. 'And you'll say hi to her for me when you see her?' she asked.

'Yeah, I will,' Sam promised.

Sheelagh gave her one last smile then slipped off towards the front desk. The day was a fairly straightforward one – she was taking any day where a colleague's daughter wasn't brought into the station in one way or another as a straightforward one from now on. Des and Reg had attended an aggravated burglary that morning that they'd passed on to Sam and Ken. Even so, when Des discovered some of the stolen goods dumped in a bin nearby, it was Sheelagh he called with his wacky theory about what to do next, probably aware that she was inclined to be a little more indulgent towards his whims than CID would be, thanks to that small matter of him saving her life a few days ago.

So she was the one who went up to the DI's office to ask for permission for an obbo, though when she knocked on the open door she was surprised to see an expensive bouquet of flowers on the bookshelf behind the desk. Without really realising she was doing it, as Sam looked up with a smile, she stepped inside the office and closed the door behind her.

'Who are those from?' she asked.

Sam rolled her eyes and made one final note on the file in front of her before standing. 'Don't you start,' she said. 'Gina beat you to it.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, yes?'

'They're from Richard Thornton,' she explained.

'The war memorial fella,' Sheelagh said, earning a nod from Sam.

'Exactly,' she said. 'Nothing sinister in that.'

'I didn't say it was sinister,' replied Sheelagh, 'I was just being nosy.'

Chuckling, Sam queried, 'Is there something you wanted?'

She cleared her throat. 'Uniform have found a bag in a bin.'

Sam's interest was piqued. 'Did you recover the goods?' she questioned, moving around the desk to deposit her file into the tray on the cabinet.

'Yes and no,' Sheelagh answered. 'Des and Reg recovered the bag, but they've requested permission to leave it where it is and keep an eye on it in case someone turns up.'

Turning back to face her, Sam said, 'I don't follow you. If we've been tipped off where it is, who's gonna come and pick it up?'

'Well, the informant's female. Des reckons it's probably the Haxbys' daughter Claire.' Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'Whether the brother knows what she's done, I don't know.'

The phone rang and Sam picking it up, covering the mouthpiece. 'Okay,' she said. 'No, that sounds good. Whatever else he may be, Des is a natural thief-taker, I'll give him that.' As Sheelagh headed for the door, she continued into the phone, 'DI Nixon... Sheelagh,' she said, drawing her back from the door with a hand held aloft. She listened for a moment more then said, 'Okay, thanks.' Putting the phone down, she looked back to Sheelagh. 'Claire Haxby, she's downstairs now.'

'Do you want me to talk to her?' Sheelagh asked.

'No, no, I'll do it,' Sam replied. 'Could you let Des know to keep an eye on that bin? Looking like he might be onto something, isn't it?'

They walked out of CID together, separating at the top of the stairs with Sam walking down to the front desk and Sheelagh carrying on to the back staircase towards her office. Des was, of course, delighted that his idea had been taken seriously, though Sheelagh wasn't sure his head would fit through the door if he did turn out to be right.

The case turned out to be a sad one. Sheelagh slotted it together from snippets from Des and Ken: the aggravated burglary victim had been attacked by several intruders including his adopted son and his real family. The bag had been ditched by the son who'd then told his adopted sister where she could find it. In the hopes of retrieving the properly before the police found it, the boy's real father had collected it and that was when Des and Reg arrested him. Torn between two families, that was how Ken put it. Torn between the good and the bad and not knowing which side he belonged on.

In the afternoon the case took a sudden turn. There were reports of a young man on a rooftop, one Cameron managed to identify as the adopted boy. Sheelagh hurried up stairs to try and locate Sam, but she wasn't in CID or CSU. She was heading back down the stairs towards the front office when she caught sight of Sam above her.

'Have you heard?' she asked. 'The young Haxby boy's on a rooftop.'

Sam jogged down the steps and fell in line with her. 'No, where?'

'Byron House,' Sheelagh replied. 'Do you want me to release his father from custody and take him there?'

'No, no, I think the sister's a better bet,' Sam said. 'She knows him better than anyone. She's at St. Hughes.'

Sheelagh nodded and watched her out of the main entrance before returning to CAD where she could keep an ear on the situation. It didn't end well. The boy jumped to his death following Matt's failed attempts to talk him down. Added to which, the station had a personal problem when Nick Klein was brought in by the Super for drug possession. Sheelagh heard the news with a sinking heart and, once her shift had finished, went up to CID on the off-chance Sam was still in her office. She was.

'Knock, knock,' she said in the doorway.

Sam glanced up, her pen falling from her fingers. 'You sound like you need a drink.'

Nodding, Sheelagh closed the door behind her and sat down in the familiar chair. The office was lit mainly by Sam's desk lamp, making her face difficult to see until she passed her a glass and sat down with her own. Then Sheelagh recognised the weariness in her face.

'Are you seeing Abi tonight?' she asked.

'Visiting's till eight,' Sam replied. 'I'll pop in, but she'll probably be coming home tomorrow anyway.'

'That's good news,' Sheelagh said.

'Hopefully we can move forward.' Pausing, Sam sipped her whisky and shook her head. 'Unlike that poor lad today. You wonder how families get so messed up until it happens to you.'

Sheelagh watched her carefully. 'You were on the scene, weren't you?'

'I'd literally just arrived with the sister when he fell out of the sky,' answered Sam. 'It's the noise more than anything, isn't it?'

She nodded her agreement. 'It lives with you for a while.'

'The kid was torn apart,' Sam said after a moment. 'He wanted to know who he was, but knowing who he was made life intolerable. We're supposed to protect our kids, he would've been better off not knowing.'

'His adoptive parents couldn't make that decision for him,' Sheelagh replied.

'But if they could've?' Sam questioned, looking over the rim of her glass. 'Would that have been the right thing to do?'

It wasn't difficult to identify the link between the thoughts Jonathan Haxby's suicide had stirred up and that 'terrible' thing Sam had been murmuring about on the journey home from the hospital last night. Nor was it a stretch to believe that Abi's latest cry for help was a reiteration of her desire to know who her father was. That piece of gossip about DI Nixon had been circulating when Sheelagh arrived at Sun Hill and had resurfaced in the last few weeks. The question almost burned on her lips, but she fought it down. Something she had learned about being friends with Samantha Nixon was that you needed to take your lead from her. 'Maybe someday' Sam had said last night; this wasn't that day.

'I think anybody with that choice has a bit of a thankless task,' Sheelagh said finally.

A small smile flitted across Sam's face. Then she leaned back in her chair, more at ease. 'I heard about Nick.'

Now it was Sheelagh's turn to sip her whisky. 'I misjudged it completely.'

'I don't think that's the case,' Sam answered. 'You noticed something was wrong, you challenged him about it when other people didn't. The fact that he lied about the severity of the problem isn't down to you.'

'I should've done more,' she said.

'Like what?' Sam retorted. 'Sheelagh, you noticed, which is more than can be said for people who've worked with him a hell of a lot longer. Don't do this to yourself.'

'He didn't search Abi when he picked her up,' she pointed out.

'Abi's fine,' replied Sam. 'He thought it was a drunk and disorderly, so did Cameron.'

Sheelagh smiled into her glass. 'You're being unusually calm about this.'

'If it had gone the other way I wouldn't be. But it didn't. Besides,' Sam continued, 'if I'm going to be angry about anything, it'll be the fact that Matt visited Abi in hospital earlier today.'

'He didn't?' Sheelagh said incredulously.

Nodding, she muttered, 'Oh, he did. One of the nurses told me about how that nice colleague of mine had stopped by to chat to my daughter.'

Sheelagh snorted. 'He's got front, I'll give him that.'

'Or a screw loose,' Sam said. 'You'd think he'd have enough problems with his own daughter without going anywhere near Abigail again.'

'What are you going to do?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Resist the urge to throttle him,' she retorted with a grim smile. 'It might make me feel better, but not for long enough to make it worthwhile. I'm trying to start things fresh with Abi. I wouldn't mind leaving Matt in the past with...everything else,' she concluded, quickly draining her glass.

Sheelagh followed suit then reluctantly stood. 'Don't forget to take your flowers home,' she said, indicating the bookshelf. 'And send Abi my love.'

'I will,' Sam promised, seeing her to the door and squeezing her arm. 'Night, Sheelagh.'

* * *

A few days off coupled with some shifts on CAD meant that she barely crossed paths with Sam, beyond smiles in the corridor for a while. On the flip side, she'd seen far too much of Des Taviner which, she'd admit only in her quietest moments as she travelled to and from the station, was unsettling her a bit. It was the way he looked at her sometimes, and the fact that she let him. She might have rebuked him for making a physical move on her, but she couldn't kid herself that they hadn't been mentally dancing this dance for weeks now. It caused her restless nights, though she certainly wasn't going to show him that. Perhaps if she'd seen much of Sam she might've confided in her. Then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She couldn't put her finger on why, but she didn't see herself having that conversation with Samantha Nixon and, of course, all her other friends knew Patrick well. So she just endured day after day seeing Des in the corridors and trying to convince herself that the only reason she felt attracted to him at all was because she was flattered by his attentions.

Something that seemed to happen with alarming regularity was that idiots, drunk or otherwise, caught her accent and decided to burst into song. The most common tune was 'Danny Boy' and that's the one she was listening to as she booked in a bearded drunk who smelled like he lived under a bridge. Knowing she'd have to fumigate the cell when he finally sobered up, she finished tapping on the keyboard then caught sight of Matt coming towards her. Grimacing at what she had to say, she turned to him.

'Matt,' she said. 'Er, sorry to trouble you, but Amy failed to sign in last night.'

'Oh, really?' he retorted. 'I'm not my daughter's keeper.'

He began to walk away and she followed him out from behind the desk. 'Er, yeah, but her bail address turned out to be false.'

Spinning back, he said, 'I thought it was verified.'

'Yeah, it was,' she murmured with a wince. 'By Nick. Look, I'm sorry but I just wondered if you knew where she might be.'

'I haven't a clue,' he replied. After two steps away he turned back and demanded, 'I mean, what was Okaro thinking of sending Nick to rehab? Talk about soft option.'

Sheelagh sighed. 'Well, I don't know about that.'

'And then what?' Matt questioned. 'He goes back on the street? I tell you what, someone who's sunk as low as he has you can never, ever trust again. Believe me.'

With that, he stormed off. She couldn't blame him for being angry, especially given the fact that Nick had been on the scene when his granddaughter had ingested crack. Nick and Amy were connected in Matt's mind and it would take a miracle to shatter that link. Even so, at least Nick was seeking help. Sheelagh didn't underestimate how difficult that was and she truly hoped he was getting the support he needed in rehab.

Later that morning she was intrigued to see Richard Thornton back in custody for assault. She recognised him as the man who'd attacked the boy at the war memorial on the day of Abi's overdose, the one who'd sent Sam flowers afterwards to thank her for her help. Though he was let go at that point, when the door opened a few hours later he was brought back in flanked by Sam and Ken. Before the trio even approached the desk Sheelagh could see how uneasy Sam was. She cut a striking figure today, dressed all in black, though the anxiety creasing her forehead made her look a little less in control.

'Who's the arresting officer?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam took another look at Richard before murmuring, 'I am.'

After booking him for possessing imitation firearms, Ken began to lead him to the closest available interview room. Sheelagh leaned across the desk and asked quietly, 'What's going on? Are you okay?'

Swallowing, Sam replied, completely unconvincingly, 'I'm fine.'

Sheelagh studied her eyes. 'Have you been crying?'

'Course not,' said Sam. 'I'd better get on with this interview.'

Watching her go, Sheelagh bit her lip. She wouldn't even attempt to work out what was going on now, whether it was something to do with Richard Thornton or perhaps something at home. Maybe Sam would confide in her later, over a drink. Patrick had become accustomed to her arriving home later than expected and the kids were used to fending for themselves. That was, of course, if Sam was inclined to talk to her. Judging from the way she sped off after the interview leaving Ken to bail Richard Thornton Sheelagh wasn't so sure she would be.

Later, Amy Boyden was back brought into custody for skipping bail. Ignoring her father, she demanded her statutory call and Sheelagh acquiesced rapidly, if only to silence her. A little while later Matt came down to visit his daughter. She told him that, of course, she'd be present throughout the interview then walked off and left him to it. She would've done the same for anyone under the circumstances, though when he came away from the cells he was wiping his eyes. He walked off then returned a few minutes later just as Amy was screaming the place down. The look on his face was the same bewilderment Sheelagh had seen on Sam's face just after the overdose and she couldn't help but sympathise. When she asked if he was okay he just turned and left. Sighing, Sheelagh went back to her work, trying to concentrate as best she could with Amy screeching along the corridor.

Then, for want of a more appropriate term, all hell broke loose. Doors burst open along the corridor and, it seemed, every available officer was scurrying out of the station. No one stopped to tell her what was going on so she just had to wait an agonising ten minutes before Sam appeared in custody, her hands shaking as she put them flat on the desk.

'Matt's dead,' she murmured.

Sheelagh's lips parted but for a moment she couldn't formulate words. He'd been stood right here in custody not half an hour ago – how could he possibly be dead? Lifting her eyes to Sam's, she knew it was no joke. Funny how you could barely tolerate someone yet still be knocked completely off-kilter by their death.

'What happened?' Sheelagh managed finally.

Sam swallowed. 'He attended a suspect package call. At the same time we heard that the other witness in the Chinese trafficking case had been found murdered in Kent. I called him, told him to get back to the station but...' Growling, she slapped the desk. 'Of all the arrogant, pig-headed, stupid things to –'

'Hey,' Sheelagh interrupted, grasping her trembling hand, 'tell me.'

'Sorry,' Sam said with a squeeze to her fingertips. Clearing her throat, she went on, more calmly, 'He said I was only trying to get him back to the station for – for personal reasons and that he'd be back when he'd done his job. He hung up and it looks like he was shot when I was trying to call him back.'

Sheelagh exhaled and glanced to the ceiling. 'Was it quick?'

'Seems like it, yeah,' Sam replied. 'Gina's coordinating at the scene, waiting for MIT.'

'Do you think it was related to the trafficking investigation?' questioned Sheelagh.

'Pretty big coincidence if not,' she muttered, though she didn't seem entirely convinced.

'What?' Sheelagh asked. 'What is it?'

'I don't know,' answered Sam, burying her head in her hands for a moment. Sheelagh waited until she looked up uncertainly then squeezed her arm and tried to smile. Taking a long breath, Sam continued, 'It was too organised. A hoax, a drive-by shooting – it's somebody who's done this before. The only option's the gang, isn't it?'

Sheelagh didn't know what Sam was so worried about, nor did she think she was likely to get it out of her directly. She tried a different tack, asking, 'Why did Matt think you were pulling him back to the station for anything but safety reasons?'

Abruptly, she stood up straighter. It was almost as though Sheelagh could see the shutters slamming down. For a few moments Sam studied the desk then, just as she opened her mouth, there was renewed screaming in the cells. Sheelagh grimaced, recognising Amy Boyden's angry voice at the same time Sam did.

'Wait for MIT,' Sam advised, professional again. 'Don't go anywhere near her if you can help it. I better get home and tell Abigail before she hears it on the news.'

Nodding, Sheelagh watched her go then picked up a pen and feigned work. Her shift was nearly over, thank goodness, and she only had twenty minutes to pretend that she wasn't shaken and confused by the last few minutes and the day as a whole. The station was chattering as she made her way to the locker room – not grieving, chattering. Matt wasn't popular, she knew that, but it still felt as though his life had been boiled down to gossip too quickly. She changed as quickly as she could and escaped the station before anyone could ensnare her in conversation.

As she drove home she tried to clear her head. Like every other copper, she knew the risks when she signed up. However, there was something terrifying about the reality when it hit you in the face like this. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her family if she was the one not going home tonight. The kids were practically grown-up, though she vainly believed they still needed her for more than cooking and cleaning up after them. Patrick was a big kid himself sometimes, but they made a good team. It made the flirting she'd been doing with Des even more despicable and she resolved to behave more like the happily-married wife and mother she was in future. That resolve was strengthened when she got home to a bone-crushing hug from Declan and a gorgeous meal courtesy of Patrick and Siobhan. They left the news off all night and had a rare family evening all five of them. At least it meant that when she went into work the next day she was feeling a little stronger about it all.

Since MIT had taken over the investigation they were sniffing around the station, fishing for gossip on Matt. Sheelagh was on refs when one of them struck up a conversation with Gary and Luke at the next table. It only took a minute for Gary to bring up Abigail Nixon so Sheelagh quickly finished her sandwich before they could move on to her and climbed the stairs to CID.

Sam's door was ajar. Poking her head into the office, she asked, 'Can I come in?'

'Course,' Sam replied with a tired smile.

Crossing the threshold, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. 'How did Abigail take the news?'

'As you'd expect,' she said. 'I mean, as much as it turns my stomach, she knew him. And I think it actually...' She trailed off and shook her head.

'Made her appreciate you a little more?' Sheelagh suggested, earning a nod. 'I had the same reaction when I walked through the door last night. I don't like dwelling on it, but it makes you think, doesn't it? Anyway,' she went on after a moment, 'I came up to warn you that MIT are asking questions about Abigail and Matt. At the very least it's going to be dragged up again.'

Sam groaned and drummed her pen on the desk. 'It's hardly relevant, is it? I mean, it just shows that he was a...' She pressed her lips together. 'It doesn't matter anymore, does it?'

'No,' Sheelagh agreed, 'but MIT were interested, that's all.'

'Thank you,' said Sam finally. 'I appreciate the heads-up.'

Sheelagh smiled faintly and replied, 'I'd better get back out on patrol. I'm paired with Honey and so far she's very interested in talking about Matt's aura.'

Stifling her chuckle, Sam gestured to the door. 'By all means, don't let me keep you from a riveting conversation.'

The rest of the day was as riveting as Sam had predicted. There were a few domestic shouts, one assault and a rather bizarre sighting of a flasher hopping along the roofs of canal boats which they passed on to CSU. Sheelagh was glad to get home at the end of the day, especially because the kids were still making an effort to be nice to her.

Work the next day was gearing up to be much of the same – gossip about Matt interspersed with proper police work and some really stupid comments courtesy of the Honey Harmans and Gary Bests of the world. She spent much of the day out with Honey again, only coming back to the station to interview a couple of yobs from the Jasmine Allen. She was completing the paperwork for those arrests when Reg appeared in the doorway.

'I'm not one to gossip,' he said, hat tucked underneath his arm, 'but with you and the DI being friends and all that, I thought –'

Her head had snapped up. 'What's wrong? What's happened?'

He cleared his throat. 'She was interviewed this afternoon by MIT, for quite some time by all accounts. As a suspect,' he added, 'if you listen to the rumours, not a witness.'

Sheelagh sighed. 'Thanks, Reg. Is she still around, do you know?'

'I believe so,' he said.

Abandoning her paperwork without a second thought, she went to the vending machines then hurried up to CID. Unsurprisingly, Sam's door was shut fast, though the light was on. Sheelagh knocked and, when that was ignored, risked opening the door of her own accord. Sam's brow was creased with suspicion, but it eased when she saw her.

'Brought you this,' Sheelagh said, holding up the coffee cup as she nudged the door closed. She placed it carefully on the desk and took a seat. 'I'm not here to pry.'

Sam managed a wry smile. 'People have been disturbing me on pretexts all afternoon, just wanting to gawp. Though none of them would've dared open the door without my express permission,' she went on, reaching for the coffee. 'Thanks for this. Who told you?'

'Reg,' she answered, 'but it wasn't gossip as such. He thought I might want to know.'

Sipping her coffee, Sam leaned back in her chair. 'Do I have to say I didn't do it?'

Sheelagh snorted. 'Only if you like wasting your breath,' she said. 'Maybe now they'll get round to looking at serious suspects.' Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a Galaxy bar and tossed it onto the desk. 'Eat this.'

'You don't need to look after me, you know,' Sam replied, nevertheless ripping into the wrapper greedily.

'I'm not,' Sheelagh retorted, 'I want half of that myself.'

Breaking off a piece, Sam passed it across then indicated the outer office. 'They think I did it.'

'Well, for a bunch of detectives they're not very bright, are they?' Sheelagh bit into her chunk of chocolate. 'They're not thinking about it logically at all.'

'Logically?' Sam repeated, a smile playing over her lips.

'It's too haphazard,' she answered. 'I mean, I'm not the profiler here, but I don't think commissioning a drive-by in a busy area is something an intelligent, professional woman of a certain age would do.'

Sam chuckled. 'A certain age? You speak for yourself.'

Sheelagh stretched her legs out and said, 'You'd be much cleverer about it. Poison, something untraceable.'

'Don't be giving me ideas,' warned Sam, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

'Of course you didn't do it,' Sheelagh went on seriously after a moment. 'There's a difference between being angry with someone and having them killed. It'll blow over, don't you worry.'

Sam met her eye, apparently speechless for once. Finally, she broke off another lump of chocolate and handed it over. Sheelagh smiled and took it, settling back into the companionable silence while Sam sipped her coffee. There was a lull of a minute or so then there was a knock echoed. Rolling her eyes, Sam waved it away. Then the door opened and Gina walked into the office. Sheelagh automatically jumped up.

Gina surveyed the scene as she shut the door. 'At ease, Sheelagh,' she said, exchanging an amused look with Sam.

Sinking back into the chair, she said, 'Habit.'

'I've already lost your loyalty from what I can see,' Gina answered with a nod towards Sam. 'You know that DI Friend is insisting on interviewing Amy Boyden despite the fact she was raped this morning? I know people reckon you're a hard-faced cow sometimes, Samantha, but that woman's a compassionless bitch.'

As Sheelagh burst out laughing, Sam replied, 'I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere, Gina.'

'Buried very deeply,' Sheelagh added.

Gina grinned and leaned against the door. 'All I'm saying is that I'd love to see the video of your interview with her,' she said.

'I'd pay money for that actually,' said Sheelagh.

Sam took another gulp of coffee. 'Well, you're both gonna be sorely disappointed.

'Spoilsport,' Gina said.

Sheelagh cleared her throat and stood. 'I'd best get back downstairs, I'll leave you to it.'

'You've got another piece of chocolate owing,' Sam said.

'You need it more than me,' she replied with a smile. 'See you later. See you, Ma'am.'

'Sheelagh,' Sam called as Gina opened the door to let her past. She turned back to the desk and Sam said, 'Poison's a brilliant idea if the need arises. I can cite you as an accessory in court.'

'I'll look forward to it,' she retorted before she slipped out of the office away from Gina's perplexed expression.

* * *

The revelation that Amy Boyden had her father killed to claim the insurance money stifled the gossips for a few days. It was a sobering thought, especially when so many of the coppers around Sun Hill seemed to have complicated family lives. Sheelagh had a day off which she spent cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom and trying to snatch moments with the kids then she volunteered to work on the day of the funeral. She didn't know Matt well enough to compel her to go and, besides, they needed somebody covering the station. When Danny brought round the collection for Matt's granddaughter she put in, of course, but for the most part she tried to detach herself from the idea of a police funeral going on in the borough.

Everyone who was going had gone and custody was mercifully quiet when Sheelagh caught sight of a familiar figure wandering towards her, hands plunged into her pockets. She put her pen down and waited for Sam to rest her elbows on the desk.

'It's quiet down here,' she commented.

'Don't jinx it,' Sheelagh replied. 'I don't want to have to call anyone back from the funeral.'

'They'd probably welcome it,' Sam said.

Sheelagh pursed her lips. 'You don't look snowed under yourself,' she pointed out.

Conceding that with a shrug, Sam answered, 'People were asking all morning if I was going. I know what they're thinking, but it'd be hypocritical. I didn't like the man, I can't pretend I did just because he's dead.'

'No,' Sheelagh said, waiting until Sam met her eye before she continued, 'I can see why you'd feel that way.'

'But you don't agree?' Sam questioned.

'It depends why you go to a funeral, doesn't it?' she returned.

Sam tilted her head and frowned. 'You're gonna have to explain that one, Sheelagh.'

She hesitated as she tried to work out how to phrase this. 'When I go to a funeral,' she said finally, 'I go as a Catholic. It's all entwined for me, I couldn't separate it if I tried. But you,' she continued, 'you go because you loved or liked someone, or perhaps because you respected them. Am I right?'

'Probably,' she admitted.

'If I died,' Sheelagh went on, 'you'd go to my funeral, wouldn't you?'

Sam touched her arm. 'Course I would.'

'Gina's?' she pressed.

'Definitely,' Sam answered.

'Eva's?'

Nodding, Sam murmured, 'Yeah, no question.'

'Okay,' Sheelagh said with a faint smile, 'what about Gemma Osbourne or Luke Ashton?'

Sam's brow creased. 'I barely know them.'

'But you'd go, wouldn't you?' Sheelagh questioned, resting her hand over Sam's carefully.

After thinking for a moment, she turned her hand over and squeezed Sheelagh's fingers. 'I'd go,' she said. 'Not because I knew them well, but because they were police officers at Sun Hill. I'd go to show solidarity with the Super and Gina and...you,' she concluded with a bit of a blush.

'Exactly,' replied Sheelagh, smiling.

Sam sighed then drew herself up, looking more like DI Nixon in an instant. 'I could still make the wake if I left now.'

Sheelagh glanced at the clock. 'So you could.'

'Thanks for the therapy, Sheelagh,' Sam said.

'I'll start charging you,' she returned, watching her stride along the corridor.

Looking back, Sam called, 'Don't mess with someone you've been encouraging to poison people.'

Sheelagh grinned and picked up her pen, though she couldn't really remember what she'd been doing before Sam had appeared in custody. A few minutes later a prisoner was brought in, at least giving her something to deal with. After that she managed to find a dozen little tasks to occupy her mind until her shift finished.

Eager to get home, she took the paperwork she'd completed during the day down to the Sergeants' Office. She was just putting it in nice little piles when a voice from the doorway startled her.

'That all looks very cryptic,' Sam said.

She turned around and smiled. 'If I told you, there'd be no more use for me here.'

'Oh, I doubt that,' replied Sam, leaning against the door jamb. 'You finished for the day?'

'Just about,' Sheelagh answered. 'What are you doing back here? You did go, didn't you?'

'Course I did. I wouldn't have dared disobey, would I?' questioned Sam with a smirk.

'Not if you know what's good for you,' retorted Sheelagh. 'Come on, what are you doing back?'

Sam gestured over her shoulder. 'Having a drink with Gina now the wake's over.'

'Did it go okay?' Sheelagh asked.

'Bob Cryer made a good speech,' she said. 'And the team seemed to appreciate me turning up. I didn't tell them it was down to you,' she added.

'Probably for the best,' she replied. 'They'll all want special treatment.'

A smile settled over Sam's lips and Sheelagh saw the alcohol she'd consumed swimming behind her eyes. She glanced back towards Gina's office and lowered her voice. 'Listen, I don't know what I'd have done without you these last few weeks. You've been brilliant, Sheelagh, really.'

'Don't be silly. Go on,' she said firmly. 'Get back before Gina spirits the bottle away.'

Chuckling, Sam didn't move. 'I appreciate it, you know.'

'I think you're drunk,' she answered.

'Could be,' Sam returned. 'That doesn't make it any less true though. Night, Sheelagh,' she said with one final smile. Turning, she crossed the hall into Gina's office and shut the door.

Sheelagh stood still for a few moments, staring at the spot Sam had vacated. Then she shook her head and left the office. She had to be getting home, to see her kids and her husband. On a day like today she needed the reassurance of looking into their eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

In a way, Sam was grateful that on the day Phil Hunter returned to Sun Hill she was safely tucked away in court giving evidence in a GBH trial. It gave her time to work in peace – albeit in a corridor with her bag acting as a makeshift clipboard – and time to think as well. It had certainly been a strange few weeks and she was looking forward to the week in the sun booked for her and Abigail to enjoy in the not-too-distant future.

During her darker moments Sam couldn't help but dwell on the lie she had to tell her daughter. At the time it had felt like the ultimate betrayal, the final lie in a series that had fractured her relationship with Abi irreparably. That's why when Sheelagh had arrived in the hospital car park to check on her she'd been almost unresponsive. She'd wavered, wanted to tell her the truth, but she couldn't imagine how she'd react. They were different kinds of people, vastly different. Sheelagh was open, one of those people who looked beyond themselves, a hell of a lot more than Sam had ever been able to do. If Sheelagh had found herself in that position with Glenn she would've handled it differently, no doubt handled it better. But Sam had found herself locked in, so why not compound it with another lie to Abi? Perhaps she could've explained it to Sheelagh in blocks – she hadn't known who Glenn was, she kept the news of her pregnancy to herself, she refused to tell Abi anything about her father for years then, finally, she told her she was the product of a one-night stand. Individually, they were sensible choices but cumulatively? She couldn't imagine Sheelagh getting herself embroiled in that mess. She'd meant what she said – she fully intended to tell her the truth about Glenn one day, but she needed to work her way up to it. If she could do it in a controlled manner, at a suitable opening, she hoped she could make Sheelagh understand her actions in a way that didn't portray her as the monster she felt like at times.

After all, what Sam liked about their friendship was how Sheelagh didn't seem to judge her. Even the questions about Pat Kitson had been asked with interest instead of accusation, and that had prompted Sam to respond more honestly than she would've done with anybody else. Sheelagh seemed to bring that out in her, even if she wasn't quite sure why. Without being asked, Sheelagh sought her out when she needed an ear, despite the fact that Sam would rarely go looking for one. There was someone listening out for her in the station, someone to tell her that the relief were gossiping to MIT about Abi's relationship with Matt instead of waiting for the shoe to drop. When Abi had taken her overdose there was no one else she would've wanted to be there with her daughter, no one else who would've treated her with such care. Sam really wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve Sheelagh's friendship, but she didn't want to lose it.

In return, she tried to reciprocate. Hearing that Sheelagh had almost been strangled to death in a crack house had triggered a heartfelt anxious reaction, one she rarely felt with the officers under her command, let alone those who weren't. Having that level of sincere affection for someone other than Abi startled her a bit, but she was learning to run with it. She enjoyed their chats more than she could – or wanted to – articulate and, as long as that remained the case, she was open to believing she was a better copper because of Sheelagh's friendship.

When she returned to the station after her day in court it was mainly to drop off some paperwork for Jack to scrutinise first thing. She went in through the yard, deliberately avoiding the front office where they were usually urgent messages that compelled her to stay later than she intended. However, as she rounded a corner downstairs, she stopped moving all of a sudden.

Ahead of her, Sheelagh was talking to Des. Though Sam couldn't hear what they were saying, they certainly looked close. She was reminded of that snippy remark Matt had made about the two of them a few weeks ago, implying there was something going on between them. That was patently ridiculous. Sheelagh was happily married, certainly not about to sacrifice that for a man like Des Taviner. But, from the way he was looking at her, it was obvious that Des wanted more than friendship from her. Did Sheelagh realise it? Sam watched a moment more then backed out of sight. Yeah, if someone looked at you like that then it was pretty clear what was going through their head.

Slightly unsettled, she deposited the files in Jack's office then escaped the station without acquiring anymore work for a change. By the next morning she'd managed to successfully minimise the scene in her mind. Really, it was none of her business. If Sheelagh had brought this to her and discussed it then it'd be a different matter and she'd gladly offer advice. However, Sheelagh hadn't. In itself Sam suspected that should ring alarm bells, because why wouldn't Sheelagh mention it if it was nothing? Unless, of course, Sheelagh didn't think this relationship was a two-way thing. Perhaps she hadn't brought it up in case she thought it'd be too much of an imposition. With anyone else it probably would be, but Sam didn't want Sheelagh to think she fell into that category. Even so, she hadn't the foggiest how she could make that evident without actually spelling it out. She had a vision of that conversation rotating around her head as she walked up to CID and it ended with Sheelagh trying patiently not to smile at her as she made a fool of herself.

Instead of worrying about that, however, she tried to focus on her more pressing professional problem. After depositing her things in her office she went around the desks in CID, ostensibly to check on everybody, but really to catch sight of what Phil was up to. He was walking back to his desk with a handful of videos.

'What's this?' she asked, pursuing him. 'Something juicy?'

'City lawyer, got a kicking outside some bar last night,' he answered.

'Perfect,' she said. 'After that Ron Gregory mess you need results, Phil. Sort a few more like this and you'll soon be back in favour.'

Perhaps that was overly optimistic, she realised, watching him jam the tape into the machine. It would take a hell of a lot for him ever to get into her good graces, if that was even possible. She simply didn't trust him. Just because Ron Gregory had been banged up, it didn't negate all the stunts he'd pulled to protect his criminal friends in his time at Sun Hill. He'd crossed the line and she wasn't about to forget that, even if Jack and Adam felt they could.

As he fiddled with the remote, Eva's head popped in between the pair of them: 'Morning all.'

'Hey, welcome back,' Sam said, smiling widely as she followed Eva over to her desk.

'Thanks, Guv,' Eva replied.

'How's Joanna?' she asked.

Eva grimaced. 'Erm, getting there.'

'She back at school yet?'

'Yeah,' said Eva, 'first day today. Don't know who was more nervous.'

Sam could understand that. 'I bet you daren't let her out of your sight,' she said.

'Yeah, I tell you what, she's not going anywhere near derelict building sites, that is for sure.'

As Eva chuckled and shook her head, Sam returned, 'I'd have gone out of my mind.'

'I still can't believe that I got her home alive,' Eva murmured. 'Convinced myself I'd never see her again.' She fell silent for a moment then physically gathered herself together and walked over to Phil's desk. 'So, what we got?' she questioned as Sam joined them.

'Check this,' Phil said.

He rewound the CCTV tape and played them footage of the bar assault which culminated in the victim being kicked in the groin. Both Sam and Eva winced.

'Very nasty,' Sam commented as she moved towards her office.

'You up for seeing this geezer?' Phil asked Eva.

Turning back, Sam said, 'Give her a chance to get her coat off.'

'No, I'm all right, Guv,' replied Eva. 'I'd rather get stuck in.'

She couldn't help but smile. 'It's good to have you back, Eva.'

Returning to her office, she felt a little lighter. Having another friendly and competent detective back on her team was more valuable than she thought it would be. She settled down at her desk and tried to deal with the mountain of paperwork that always sprouted up when she had a day off, a day in court or so much as a lunch break. Still, though she complained about it, she loved her job and with Abi finally settling down at home she was quietly confident that life was improving.

She was mildly interested to learn later that afternoon that Sheelagh's husband, Patrick, had provided a witness statement after picking up a sexual assault suspect yesterday. It piqued her interest, too, that Des was the one who'd taken the statement. She wondered how that conversation had gone, and it certainly put a new spin on that moment she'd witnessed between Sheelagh and Des last night. Even so, Patrick Murphy's statement was literally the only thing they had on the suspect and she was forced to tell June and Polly to bail him. Heading through custody after that, she was perturbed to see friction between Eva and Phil. She didn't step in, but she'd seen enough to keep her wondering throughout the day. The pair stayed out of the office for the most part and she didn't get a chance to speak to them again, though maybe that was for the best.

Before she left the station she dropped by the Sergeants' Office. Sure enough, Sheelagh was there, head bowed as she concentrated on her paperwork. Sam watched for a moment then cleared her throat.

Sheelagh smiled as she lifted her head. 'I thought you'd have gone by now.'

Sam stepped inside the office and held up her bag. 'I'm heading that way for once.'

'But you stopped here first,' Sheelagh replied.

'Magnetic pull?' she offered.

Chuckling, Sheelagh rolled her shoulders. 'That's a lie, but I'll take it. I heard Eva's back.'

'Mmm,' Sam said, sitting down. 'Almost balances out having Phil on my team. Although I don't know how she's finding it to be honest.'

'Must be a big adjustment,' answered Sheelagh. 'I take it Joanna's back at school?'

'Yeah, that's today. Better for Eva to be here than sitting at home worrying, of course,' she went on. 'But finding that line must be difficult. I just hope she hasn't come back too soon.'

Sheelagh eyed her shrewdly. 'What's happened?'

Dipping her eyes, Sam's lips twitched. 'You can read me like a book, you know that?'

'Potent weapon in the wrong hands,' retorted Sheelagh as she leaned back in her chair. 'Come on, tell me.'

'Nothing concrete,' she replied, running her finger along the edge of the desk. 'She's working with Phil and I don't think it's going too well. I warned him this morning he needed to get some results and you know what he's like. But I've got to let it play out, I suppose.'

'Right,' Sheelagh agreed. 'Eva wouldn't appreciate special treatment.'

'Right,' Sam said. 'And I wouldn't condone it.'

Their eyes met and they exchanged a smile before Sheelagh pointed out, 'This isn't you going home, is it?'

'No,' she conceded then hesitated. 'How are things with you?'

Sheelagh shifted in her seat. 'The same as ever. Why do you ask?'

'Well, it's polite every now and then,' she answered, pretending to miss Sheelagh's evident discomfort and standing. 'I'd better get home. Promised Abi we could go shopping for the holiday tonight. I think my credit card's going to take a hit.'

'When is it you go?' asked Sheelagh.

'Day after tomorrow,' she answered.

'I'll miss you around here.'

'That's a lie,' Sam said, wilfully echoing Sheelagh's earlier comment, 'but I'll take it.'

'Make sure you enjoy yourselves,' Sheelagh said.

We will.' Sam stepped towards the door and then turned back. Her instinct was to ask questions, to probe, because that was what she did. However, she swallowed it down and just said, 'Night.'

Sheelagh's shoulders relaxed. 'Night, Sam.'

Once she was in the car she gave herself time to ponder just what was bothering Sheelagh so much. Des Taviner was the obvious answer, and the fact she didn't want to discuss it was her business, in spite of Sam's rampant curiosity. She supposed that at least she'd done what she set out to do – she'd let Sheelagh know this was a two-way thing and that she was available to talk if she wanted to. More than that, she couldn't expect.

* * *

If there was a good time to take a week off then Sam didn't know when it was. Still, she'd promised Abi a holiday in the sun and she wasn't about to let her down again. She took a bag full of books and actually managed to read several while lounging by the pool and keeping an eye on Abi. It was pleasant to see her daughter chatting to boys her own age, though Sam had to make a severe effort not to interrogate the lads. Under eighteen, quite gangly, they were a marked improvement on the likes of Matt Boyden. She forced herself to remember that. The one thing she and Abi disagreed on was the fact that she refused to turn her phone off. She only answered calls from the top brass – there weren't many and they were very apologetic when they came.

A call from Gina was so unexpected that, despite Abi glaring at her from across the pool, she answered it without hesitation in the knowledge that it was going to be something important.

'Gina,' she said, 'what's up?'

'Are you sitting comfortably?' Gina said without preamble.

Automatically, she sat up straighter on the sun lounger. 'Well, I was. What's going on?'

'I wanted to give you a heads-up in case you walked back into it blindsided or somebody else calls you, Jack maybe,' Gina replied. 'I know you're friendly with Sheelagh.'

'What is it?' she questioned, standing up and shielding her eyes from the sun. 'What's wrong with Sheelagh?'

'Well, her husband came in late last night claiming he'd been assaulted and had his cab stolen –'

'Claiming?' Sam interrupted.

'Hey, hey, you're not interrogating me, you know,' Gina retorted. 'I'm doing you a favour here.'

'Sorry, sorry,' she said, moving further away from the pool and warming her feet on the sun-drenched tiles. 'Go on.'

'For the record, I believed him. He's a nice, genuine bloke from what I can tell. Well, he would be, married to Sheelagh, wouldn't he? Anyway,' continued Gina, 'around the same time Tony and Reg picked up a woman who'd been stabbed and possibly the victim of an attempted sexual assault near to where Patrick said he was assaulted on Ravens Lane. The victim got into a cab and was attacked by the driver, but she fought back against her attacker.'

'So the theory was that Patrick Murphy stabbed the woman then tried to cover himself by saying he was attacked himself and his cab was nicked?' Sam questioned.

'In a nutshell.'

'Right, so when that outlandish theory was put aside so that...' She trailed off as something occurred to her. 'Wait a second, who was nights in CID?'

'Take a guess,' said Gina.

Sam groaned. 'Debbie.'

'Bingo.'

'What happened?' Sam pressed.

'She's convinced herself that he's guilty,' answered Gina. 'The circumstantial evidence supports it and there's an old assault conviction on his record from what I understand. But I still don't think he's the type.'

'No,' Sam murmured, drumming her fingers against her temple. 'How's Sheelagh coping?'

'Holding it together, even when SOCO searched her house and she had to fend off questions from the kids.'

'I hope they were bloody careful,' Sam said. 'Right, well, I'll give Debbie a –'

'Don't do anything of the sort,' Gina cut in. 'I didn't call you to ride in like a white knight and sort this mess out. You can't do that.'

She snorted. 'Gina, watch me.'

'Listen to me, Samantha,' replied Gina firmly. 'Your friendship with Sheelagh is common knowledge around here. This isn't your investigation, you can't interfere. The DCI's back in and you trust him to deal with it, don't you?'

'That's not the point,' Sam argued. 'I'm in a position to help.'

'And I'm overjoyed that you want to,' Gina muttered, 'but I'm asking you to stay out of it. I can't order you not to call Debbie McAllister, but I'm advising against it. You could make things worse. You'd need to back Debbie as a matter of course and you couldn't do that right now.'

Finally, she sighed and massaged her neck. 'All right. I'll stay out of it for now. And Gina?' she added before her friend could hang up. 'Keep an eye on Sheelagh for me. She's tough, but she's not invincible.'

'Consider it done,' Gina said with a smile in her voice. 'Enjoy the rest of your holiday.'

Tossing the phone on top of her towel, Sam sighed. Suddenly, the sunshine seemed a little dimmer as she contemplated what was going on miles away in London. She half-wished Gina hadn't told her but, then, if she'd arrived back and seen a copy of the report on her desk then being left out of the loop would have driven her mad. Sam needed no nudge to believe that Debbie went into the investigation believing Patrick Murphy was guilty and had seen every bit of evidence since in that light. However, if Jack was on the case too then it might at least be fair. He wasn't about to convict an innocent man. Funnily enough, the possibility of Patrick being guilty didn't occur to her. If Sheelagh trusted him then that was good enough for her. Slowly, she returned to her seat, the plastic warming her bare legs.

'What was that all about?' Abi asked, dropping down into the lounger beside her. 'I thought you weren't going to answer it again.'

'I'm sorry, sweetheart,' she said. 'It was about someone at work, that's all. Sergeant Murphy,' she added, hopeful that the familiar name would quell Abi's ire a little. It did.

'Sheelagh?' she asked instantly. 'Is she okay?'

Sam couldn't help but smile at her daughter's concern for Sheelagh, so similar to her own. 'Her husband's been accused of a serious assault,' she said. 'Inspector Gold thought I'd want to know.'

Abi tugged her sunglasses from her forehead and folded them up. 'You've got a real soft spot for her, haven't you?' she questioned.

'Well, she did save your life,' Sam answered. 'I'll always be grateful to her for that.'

'Yeah, but it's more than that, isn't it?' Abi pressed.

'Are you sure you don't want to be a copper?' returned Sam.

Abi rolled her eyes. 'Mum, stop dodging the question.'

She chuckled and tilted the soles of her feet towards the sun. 'Sheelagh's a friend of mine, if that's what you want me to say.'

Reaching for her glass, Abi commented, 'You don't have friends usually.'

'No,' she admitted, 'but Sheelagh's different. She's really been there for me in the last few months. I couldn't tell you why, I honestly couldn't.'

'You care about her a lot,' replied Abi, watching her carefully.

Grimacing, Sam met her eye. 'Don't tell anyone, will you?'

'Inspector Gold's figured it out.' Abi grinned and poked her arm. 'Is it really that terrible that other people might?'

'You're enjoying this,' Sam pointed out.

'Course I am,' Abi retorted. 'First a friend to get you out of the house then we can work towards a boyfriend.'

Sam snorted and reached for her own drink. 'No chance.'

* * *

The rest of the holiday passed without incident. Abi's happiness revitalised them both and Sam felt the stresses of the last months drift away from her. She spent her time trying to truly unwind, more than a little drunk the entire time as she watched Abi enjoy herself. It was likely to be the last time she could persuade her daughter to actually come on holiday with her and she was determined to make the most of it, though her thoughts flicked back to Sun Hill a few times. She knew that Gina would've called back had anything drastic happened, but that didn't scratch the itch of interest she felt at Sheelagh's wellbeing. By the time they landed at a damp Heathrow she felt as though she and Abi were starting anew and she was raring to get back to work.

There was a message flashing on the answering machine when she dragged the suitcases through the door. Abi went straight upstairs to change so, out of breath, Sam pressed the button and leaned back against the wall.

'Samantha,' Gina said, 'I didn't ring your mobile because, honestly, I want to tell you this face-to-face. Come find me when you get back into work. It's worth it, I promise.'

That was much more cryptic and frivolous than she was used to from Inspector Gina Gold. She suppressed her urge to call her immediately, knowing that Gina would keep her word and only tell her whatever this was face-to-face tomorrow. So she contented herself with putting a few loads of washing in and doing a shop to keep them going for a few days. When she got back from the supermarket she found Abi crashed out on the sofa with a film flickering in the background.

Smiling, she kneeled down and kissed her forehead. Waking her up was always a nightmare so she just threw a blanket over her and kept the noise down for the rest of the night. Getting back to school would be a shock to the system for her tomorrow, almost as much as getting back to the station was going to be for Sam.

She bought flowers to brighten up her office and a newspaper on the way to work the next morning, meaning that she was laden down as she climbed the stairs up to CID. As she reached the top she saw Eva standing there watching Cathy Bradford's retreating back.

'Morning, Eva,' she said.

'Nice tan, Guv,' she replied as they walked into CID together. 'I take it the holiday was a success.'

'Yes,' Sam said with a smile, 'it was great, thanks. But as soon as I walk back into this place...'

'A distant memory,' Eva supplied.

'Yes. So what's been going on?' she asked as they walked into her office and she caught sight of her flashing answer phone. 'Any major problems while I've been away or are all these messages just for me?'

As she rounded the desk and deposited her stuff, Eva answered, 'No, there's nothing urgent, Guv. There's a couple of cases you need to review. Oh, and Reg on a runaway bus,' she added.

Sam looked up. 'What?'

'Welcome back,' Eva said and Sam chuckled. Then she went on, 'There is one more thing. Some journalist is in today, doing a piece on Matt Boyden.'

'Oh, good,' Sam replied. 'At least I know who to avoid because anything I'd say wouldn't be printable.' The phone rang as Eva retreated and she felt the familiar slither of delight at her job as she picked it up: 'DI Nixon.'

It was a rape allegation on campus that needed passing on to CSU. It was fortunate that today DC Ramani de Costa, a sex crimes expert, was joining them. It was just the kind of thing to throw in her direction, though Sam felt slightly bad about not letting her sit down first. She went to see June to pass the case on, already well back into the swing of Sun Hill life.

As she turned to leave, June called, 'How was your holiday?'

She glanced over her shoulder and quipped, 'What holiday?'

Now that she was out of CID she decided to seek out Gina and catch up on what had happened with Sheelagh while she had a chance. She found her stood in her office rifling through some paperwork.

'What happened?' Sam questioned, closing the door behind her.

Gina sank into her chair. 'Good holiday?'

'Never mind that,' she said. 'What happened?

'Do you want the short version or the long one?' When Sam threw her a look she held up a hand. 'Fair enough. Sit down.'

As she did so, she asked, 'Was Patrick Murphy released?'

'We caught the guy, yeah,' Gina answered. 'Or, rather, Sheelagh and Des did.'

'Des?!' Sam repeated, unease bubbling in her stomach. 'Start at the beginning.'

'Obviously,' Gina began, 'I've had most of this second-hand from Sheelagh and Jack. From what I understand, that conviction I told you about was an assault against a female passenger who refused to pay. That was a red rag to a bull with Debbie.'

'I bet,' Sam murmured.

'Well, a saint would've been wound up by her attitude. Sheelagh agreed to talk to her and Jack informally about Patrick's personality and what not, but Debbie took the opportunity to grill her about their sex life.'

Sam rolled her eyes. 'Of course she did.'

'The next thing I know,' Gina continued, 'is Sheelagh's steaming through that door telling me she's just slapped Debbie.'

'Excuse me?!' Sam demanded, sitting up in her chair.

'Mmm,' replied Gina with a smile, 'and there was me worried about what you might say to Debbie in the heat of the moment.'

'She actually slapped her?' questioned Sam. 'In the face?'

'There's no need to look quite so proud,' Gina pointed out.

'What, like you do?' she retorted. 'Isn't that why you wanted to tell me face-to-face?'

Gina shrugged, lips twitching. 'Fair point. I think Debbie was all for pressing charges, but someone talked her out of it. Anyway, Sheelagh took Patrick home from what I could gather then went looking for something that might prove his innocence. She located his wallet, but the kid who found it suggested Patrick had been the one who dumped it, putting him right back in the frame. And you know what Sheelagh did?'

'Took it to Debbie,' Sam answered without hesitation.

'Right,' Gina said. 'Not long after that she asked me for permission to go home, but she didn't quite get there. The next I hear, Des Taviner's reporting that they've found the stolen cab but Sheelagh's been abducted in it.'

Sam's smile slipped from her face. 'What happened?'

'She managed to text Des her location,' answered Gina. 'I was coordinating from CAD. She got away from the fella, Des tracked her down and they made the arrest together.'

Settling back in her chair, Sam muttered, 'Why Des?'

Gina clasped her hands together. 'Your guess is as good as mine. I told her if she thinks of listening to him again then she's lost her marbles.'

'Yeah,' said Sam softly then she cleared her throat. 'But she's okay?'

'Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's back to normal,' Gina replied. 'Patrick's been cleared, the real culprit's in custody and Debbie McAllister got a slap in the face. Busy week.'

Sam tried to smile, though she couldn't quite manage it.

'What?' Gina questioned.

'Nothing,' she said, standing. 'Thanks for filling me in. And thanks for the heads-up actually, I really appreciate it. I should get back upstairs, I've got a mountain of messages to work through.'

Gina followed her to the door. 'Are you all right?'

'Course,' she replied.

Although she looked unconvinced, Gina let her go without another word. Instead of heading upstairs, though, Sam made a beeline for the bathroom. Her phone rang as she entered but she rejected the call and put it down on the sink. She didn't quite know why, but she wasn't ready to face her colleagues yet.

It was that combination again – Sheelagh and Des in the same sentence. It unsettled her, though she was hard pressed to pinpoint why. She could hardly claim she was worried about Sheelagh getting hurt when it seemed that Des had helped save her life. Then again, how had Sheelagh got it into her head to go investigating with Des Taviner alone at night? That was, as Gina said, the mark of someone who'd lost her marbles. Or, at least, Sheelagh had been desperate for support. Perhaps if Sam had been here, Sheelagh might've turned to her and not Des. Then again, she hadn't yet, had she? There was nothing to say she would. For some reason, that irritated Sam intensely. Sighing, she splashed her face with cool water and dabbed it dry.

'You look far too preoccupied to say you've only been back at work for half an hour,' a voice from the doorway said.

Sam jumped then tried to paste a smile onto her face as she turned. 'Not preoccupied, just thinking.'

'About what?' Sheelagh asked.

'About you, as it happens,' Sam replied before she thought too much about it. She was almost gratified to see a blush appear on Sheelagh's face, though she realised an instant afterwards that she sounded like she did when she indulged in power-games with the likes of Phil and modified her tone. 'Listen,' she went on, crossing her arms, 'Gina called me while I was away to fill me in on what was going on. I wanted to do what I could from over there but she warned me off wading in, she thought I might make things worse for you by interfering.'

A strange look came over Sheelagh's face. 'Really?'

Now it was Sam's turn to flush and she needlessly washed her hands. 'By the sound of it, you didn't need my help.'

'Well, I wouldn't want you getting into trouble on my account,' Sheelagh answered.

'Are you okay?' Sam questioned as she reached for a paper towel. 'Is everything sorted?'

Sheelagh nodded. 'We're getting back to normal.'

'Good,' she said, 'I'm glad. Speaking of which,' she went on in a rush, 'I should actually get some work done this morning. I'll see you.'

Without another word, she slipped past Sheelagh and hurried up towards CID. She was half-irritated, half-embarrassed, though she really hadn't a clue why. It was probably just the fact that her sincere urge to be a good friend to Sheelagh hadn't been necessary after all.

When she walked back into CID the first person she caught sight of was Debbie McAllister. Immediately, her irritation solidified and she swept forward feeling much surer of herself.

Perching on the edge of her desk, she asked, 'Everything all right, Debbie?'

Debbie raised her head, looking like she'd swallowed a lemon. 'Morning, Guv. Good holiday?'

'Not bad. I've just been catching up on the gossip. Well?' she pressed.

'Well what?' Debbie retorted.

'Everything all right?' she repeated. 'Not investigating any of your colleagues or their families so far this morning? I wondered if you were going for the set. I take it your face has recovered.'

Clearing her throat, Debbie muttered, 'If you mean Sheelagh, it was just a slap.'

'Mmm,' Sam replied with an acidic smile, 'so I heard.'

'Look, all I did was follow the evidence,' snapped Debbie. 'You would've done the same in my shoes.'

Sam crossed her arms. 'There's a difference between following evidence and actively hoping that you get to arrest a colleague's husband. Or a colleague, for that matter. Taking pleasure in it, Debbie – that's what people have a problem with. It's almost like you want everyone to be guilty of something.'

'Of course I don't,' Debbie answered. 'If I didn't do my job –'

'I'd pull you up on it,' Sam interrupted. 'Tricky line, isn't it? Except most of your colleagues seem to walk it without difficulty. Sometimes you have to interview colleagues or their husbands. It's complex, but we manage it. You don't learn from your mistakes, do you?'

'And you do?' Debbie demanded, sitting up straighter. 'You were questioned over Matt Boyden's murder, weren't you?'

'Yes, I was,' returned Sam. 'And you know what I've got in common with Patrick Murphy and Brandon Kane? The officers so intent on believing us guilty were wrong. Get into the habit of hoping you'll be wrong or your colleagues'll trust you less than they already do. Now,' she added, sliding off the desk, 'if I could have your up-to-date reports on my desk by close of play I'd be grateful. I've got a catch-up with the DCI tomorrow.'

Leaving Debbie gaping at her, she walked into her office. She sat down at her desk and wondered where to start. Then, remembering the call she'd rejected in the bathroom, she reached for her phone, but it wasn't there.

'Looking for this?'

She glanced to the doorway, finding Sheelagh leaning against the frame with her phone held up. She must've left it behind in her mad dash from the bathroom. Standing, she rounded the desk and peered over Sheelagh's shoulder, but Debbie had disappeared. Then Sheelagh stepped inside and nudged the door shut, a small smile on her face.

'I'm not quite with it yet,' Sam admitted, taking the phone.

'Oh, I'd say you're on form,' replied Sheelagh as she leaned back against the door. 'I can see why Gina thought it best to keep you out of the investigation.'

Sam winced. 'How much of that did you hear?'

'Enough,' Sheelagh said. 'You didn't have to do that.'

Shrugging, she muttered, 'Debbie needs to learn that she can't go trampling over her colleagues and expect to get away with it.'

'Does she?' asked Sheelagh softly.

Reluctantly, Sam met her eye. 'Sorry if I was out of line. It just needed to be said.'

There was a moment of silence then Sheelagh leaned forward and kissed her cheek before saying, 'I should get back to work.'

'Yeah,' Sam murmured, 'you should.'

With one more smile, Sheelagh slipped out of the office. Slowly, Sam returned to her seat, sitting down and taking a long breath. The answer phone still flashed with numerous messages and her email was full to bursting. She turned her attention to all that and found herself completely immersed. Only when there was a knock on the door a little while later did her concentration break.

'Yes, Eva?' she questioned, dropping her pen instantly at the perturbed expression on her face. 'Is there a problem?'

Eva glanced back into the office and lowered her voice. 'Are you all right, Guv?'

She stared at her. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, you're, erm, you're humming, Guv,' Eva replied.

Looking beyond the door, she saw several heads turned in her direction. 'Everything's fine, Eva.'

'Sure?'

'Nothing to worry about,' she said with a grin. 'Though maybe you should shut the door on your way out, keep the noise down.'

Eva smiled. 'Will do.'

As the door clicked closed, Sam leaned back in her chair. Caught humming at work by one of her DCs – that was a new one. She hadn't even realised she was doing it. Then again, everyone out there had probably heard about her little altercation with Debbie earlier and had put it down to that or the holiday afterglow. Maybe that was what it was. Focusing back on her paperwork, she made a conscious effort not to hum, although she caught herself at it again not ten minutes later.


	7. Chapter 7

Kissing Des had been an impulse Sheelagh shouldn't have yielded to. She could blame the stress and exhilaration of the day, she could blame anything she wanted to, but the truth of the matter was that her defences had been drained and all that was left was an overwhelming desire to throw caution to the wind.

This morning she'd felt out of sorts, though she still mustered her usual jovial attitude. Seeing Samantha back in the station had certainly lifted her mood in real terms, especially hearing her well-worded critique of Debbie McAllister earlier. Knowing that Sam wanted to interfere, even while on her holiday, had made her smile more than once. In spite of their growing friendship, she hadn't supposed she would cross Sam's mind while she was out of the country. She didn't know what was more surprising – that Gina had called Sam because she thought she'd care or that Sam really had been concerned about her. It was sweet, though she suspected Samantha Nixon would rebel at such a label.

At least work proved a good distraction from the Des situation. Late morning, she was called up to the Super's office, which alarmed her a little until she saw the expression on Mr Okaro's face.

'Please, Sheelagh,' he said, 'this is nothing to worry about. I need your help actually. Take a seat.'

Trying to relax, she sat opposite him. 'What can I do, Sir?'

'You've heard we've got a journalist in today to do a piece on Matt Boyden?' he questioned.

'Inspector Gold mentioned it,' she replied evenly.

'Good,' Mr Okaro said. 'The trouble is, Sheelagh, people have been distancing themselves from Matt since his death. I don't want this journalist to interview somebody who's going to insinuate that Matt's last weeks were steeped in controversy. Or, indeed, somebody with enough knowledge of him to ignite rumours in other areas.'

'I think I understand,' Sheelagh said then she hesitated. 'If I may be so bold, Sir, why are you letting the journalist in at all?'

The Superintendent shot her a wry smile. 'The Borough Commander is very invested in showing Sun Hill to be a compassionate station struggling with the death of a well-liked officer. The narrative's written,' he continued, 'we merely have to adhere to it.'

'You want me to speak to this fella then?' she questioned after a moment.

Mr Okaro inclined his head. 'You're relatively new so you can dodge any difficult questions about the past and I know you won't gossip about recent events. I couldn't think of anyone more capable of handling a journalist with his nose itching for a story. His name's Dougie Pritchard and he should be arriving any minute.'

'I'll do my best, Sir,' she said before leaving the office.

It was funny really – she'd barely thought of Matt since his death. She certainly hadn't thought of him in his own right. He'd crossed her mind in relation to their staff shortage and in relation to Sam and Abi, but not really as a colleague gunned down in the line of duty. He hadn't been well-liked, people had only attended his funeral because it was the right thing to do, not out of any genuine affection. His soul had been laid to rest and, with all appropriate regret, that was it as far as Sheelagh was concerned. She focused on the living – Patrick and the kids, Samantha and...Des. Not for the first time today her thoughts had come full circle.

Going downstairs she straightened up her office then went through to reception to greet Dougie Pritchard. Just one look at him put her off, but she battled to keep her smile visible.

'Mr Pritchard?' she asked, shaking his hand. 'Sergeant Murphy.'

'Thank you for seeing me,' he said.

She barely resisted the urge to wipe the slimy journalist scent from her hand. 'Superintendent Okaro said you were writing an article about Matthew Boyden?'

Pritchard nodded. 'Yeah, and I wanna do a story about how Sun Hill is coping with the loss of a popular colleague.'

'Well, I only worked with him briefly but I'll try to answer any questions,' she said.

'I'm sure you'll be very useful,' he returned.

She opened the door to lead him into the station, barely realising that Samantha was waiting to pass through the doorway from the other side. Then she made a conscious effort to ignore her, since a journalist investigating Matt Boyden in any way was the last thing Sam needed to encounter. Taking Mr Pritchard into her office, she proceeded to spend what felt like hours talking to one of the most odious men she could imagine being stuck in a room with. She didn't know what his agenda was, but she did her best to derail it. Only when she was showing him out of the station did she get a sense of what he wanted.

'Well, thanks for all your help,' Pritchard said, 'But I wondered, now that I'm here, do you think I might be able to talk to somebody else?'

'Why?' Sheelagh questioned.

'You know, get another angle,' he said. 'I thought perhaps DI Nixon might agree. I left a message.'

Irritation bubbled in Sheelagh's chest as she replied, 'Yeah, she's been away.'

'But she's back now, yeah?' Pritchard asked.

'Look, I'm sure if she wants to talk to you she'll get in touch with you, Mr Pritchard, okay? Goodbye,' she concluded, opening the door and ushering him into the front office. She wouldn't show him the same level of courtesy as she would another guest by seeing him right out of the station. He'd annoyed her too much for that.

Had somebody been talking, she wondered? A word about Abi's liaison with Matt would be a delicious titbit for a journalist like Pritchard and he certainly hadn't seemed as interested in Matt Boyden the police officer as she'd supposed he might. He wasn't after a story about a heroic officer, he already seemed to know that Matt wasn't that. He was searching for something and if that something was a scoop about Samantha Nixon then Sheelagh certainly wasn't going to be nice to him about it.

Ten minutes later, after running an errand up to CSU, she was caught by Eva as she walked back downstairs.

'Oh, Sarge,' Eva said, 'is Dougie Pritchard still here? I heard you interviewed him earlier.'

'That's right,' Sheelagh answered, 'I just saw him out.'

Eva sighed and disappeared before she got a chance to question why she was asking. Then Des rounded the corner and knocked all thoughts of Dougie Pritchard from her mind.

'Sheelagh,' he said. Then he grimaced. 'I mean, Sarge.'

Being so close to him again unsettled her, especially with officers milling around them, but she was determined not to show him that. 'Yes?' she said.

'About last night.' He paused. 'Our little moment.'

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'You kissed me,' Des replied. 'You trying to pretend it didn't happen?'

'No,' she said shortly.

He frowned. 'So what was it all about?'

'Look, it just happened,' she answered, feeling the lie pierce through her. 'Is there a problem?'

'No,' he muttered.

'Fine,' she said.

Holding his gaze, she tried to drill her nonchalance into him. She just hoped he believed it because she certainly didn't. He broke away and banged through the double doors, glancing back through the glass and meeting her eye again. Maybe her expression shook and maybe he saw something. Whatever it was, she was trembling as she moved towards her office. Only when she'd closed the door on the world did she start to recover a bit.

Of course, it was all well and good trying to shut the station out but she did have a job to do. Not long after hiding herself away she was forced to head down towards custody where a group of officers trooped past her, Des amongst them.

'It's all go today, isn't it?' he said, his voice cool and distant. 'Armed robbery. Better get down there or they'll start without us.'

She was suddenly struck by the memory of watching Matt Boyden leaving the station not so long ago and called, 'Des!'

'What?' he demanded. 'Not a problem, is there?'

'No,' she murmured.

He slapped his hat onto his head. 'Fine,' he snapped, deliberately invoking their earlier conversation.

As he stomped off alongside his colleagues she watched after him, completely confused. Wanting her officers to be safe was entirely normal; her throat constricting because she was allowing one of them to walk away with a false impression about her feelings was entirely new.

She couldn't help herself – she rapidly completed the task she was in the middle of then hurried along to CAD. Smithy was dealing with the robbery response and it was with a slither of fear that she realised Des and Cameron were in pursuit of the robbers' vehicle. With every update on location from Cameron her anxiety heightened. She hoped they'd lose them, as terrible as that sounded; she hoped that the thieves who'd shot at security guards would escape arrest and Des would be forced back to the station empty-handed.

It wasn't going to happen that way. The robbers left their car, pursued by Des and Cameron, and climbed up onto a footbridge. Then one of the officers clicked their radio on as Des asked for the thieves to put the gun down. Every muscle in Sheelagh's body tightened. For a few seconds there was silence then the sound of automatic weapon fire shattered the air. She pressed a hand to her mouth, aware of Smithy's presence but unable to contain her worry at this moment.

The airwaves just crackled and Smithy just sat there.

'Get on the radio,' Sheelagh said. 'Find out what's happening.'

'We know what's happening,' Smithy replied.

'They might be hurt,' she pressed, 'unable to answer.'

She knew why he was reluctant – there could be a stand-off, the radio could trigger another volley of gunfire. But, on the other hand, their officers could be bleeding to death. If she'd been a constable he might not have listened, but he put the call in and repeated his query when no response was forthcoming.

Sheelagh was beginning to feel distanced from her surroundings. She couldn't work out if she was trembling or numb, but she was trying to put a label on it to keep herself upright. As long as she kept asking herself questions she could pretend that this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, Cameron's voice came out of nowhere announcing the gunfire had gone over their heads. Relief thundered in Sheelagh's chest and she leaned back against the wall. Then Smithy put in a call to CID and she realised that CAD was about to be infested with any number of officers who could see how overwrought she was.

Without a word, she rushed into the corridor, barely aware of the people around her. She turned towards her office, saw Gina Gold heading in her direction and altered her path accordingly. As a consequence, she ran into Sam jogging down the stairs, looking overwrought herself. In fact, there was barely anything left of the sun-kissed, relaxed woman Sheelagh had encountered only a few hours earlier.

'Sheelagh...' Sam murmured.

She cleared her throat and tried to clear her expression. 'Are you heading to CAD? I've just come from there.'

Something crossed Sam's face – was it relief, maybe, that Sheelagh hadn't questioned why she looked like a truck had fallen onto her since they last met? But Sheelagh was more than aware that she looked no better. Anxiety was eating both of them and perhaps neither of them wanted to discuss the reasons for it.

'I understand none of our officers were injured,' Sam said. 'Is that the case?'

She nodded, though she was trembling again. 'The shots were fired over Des and Cameron's heads.'

'Des and Cameron,' Sam repeated then squared her shoulders and moved past her, squeezing her arm as she went. 'Thanks, Sheelagh.'

Although she'd resolved not to go anywhere near Des in her tumultuous state, she couldn't contain her urge to go into the yard and wait for his return. She tried to tell herself that she was concerned for both of them, but she knew she wasn't fooling her heart. Even so, she just lingered for a few seconds to satisfy her curiosity before she fled back into the station and tried to concentrate on her work once more. Only when she was forced to leave custody to check something did her mind slip back to Des and, of course, she bumped into him upstairs as he thundered out of CID.

'Ah,' he said, 'I just wanted to say thanks.'

'For what?' she asked.

'For rushing over to see if I was all right,' he replied. 'Showing concern, I was touched.'

'I came because an officer got shot at,' Sheelagh said. 'I'd have been worried about anyone under my command.'

'Ah, right,' he said with a grin, clicking his tongue and looking very pleased with himself.

Moving past him, she headed for the front stairs, half-repulsed by the greedy expression on his face and half-not. Cameron came out of CID and, though she couldn't hear the words, she knew they were talking about her as she paused on the stairs and looked after them.

Back on custody, she threw herself into work, dealing with the rape suspects that newcomer DC Ramani de Costa brought in with Cathy Bradford. She was returning to her office when Eva caught stopped her.

'Oh, Sarge,' she said, 'have you seen Abigail Nixon?'

'No,' Sheelagh replied. As Eva began to walk away, she questioned, 'What's she doing here? She shouldn't be wandering about on her own.'

'I know, I know,' Eva muttered, her anxiety more than evident as she rounded the corner.

Confused, Sheelagh watched after her. Was Abi's presence in the station something to do with that look on Sam's face earlier? It seemed strange – Abi appearing in the station the day they both got back from a holiday that Sheelagh had assumed went well given how relaxed and happy Sam had been that morning. And why did Eva seem so worried about her wandering around? It wasn't following procedure, but it wasn't like she was a small child and she was pretty familiar with the place by now. Slowly, Sheelagh returned to custody, her mind revolving on the Sam and Abi conundrum instead of focusing on Des.

A little later she overheard a conversation between Kerry and Honey as they passed through custody to collect a prisoner for interview. Eavesdropping on the relief had quickly become second nature to her – in Sun Hill, she'd found, it was better to be prepared than not.

'He's definitely a journalist then?' Honey was asking.

'Yep,' Kerry answered. 'He's just stood out there asking anybody who passes if he can see DI Nixon. If you ask me, it's not about the armed robbery. He's the only one here, isn't he?'

Sheelagh kept her eyes fixed on her work, running that through in her mind. A journalist poking around asking for Sam – it could only be Dougie Pritchard really, couldn't it? She'd known his bizarre interest in her earlier was far from typical, though this seemed a bit excessive for the Matt/Abi story. It'd be salacious if Matt was still alive from a working-relationship point of view but now? No, it wasn't nearly important enough for Pritchard to be following Sam to this extent.

As she was pondering all this, Gary Best tripped down the corridor towards Kerry and Honey. 'Here,' he said, 'have you seen DI Nixon's daughter in reception talking to a strange man?'

'It's a journalist,' Honey replied. 'We were just saying –'

'Excuse me,' Sheelagh interrupted, 'have you got nothing better to do than stand around gossiping?'

They exchanged sheepish looks and disappeared back to their duties. Meanwhile, Sheelagh's mind was racing. She half-wanted to rush down to the front office and see what was happening but, she realised as Des appeared in front of her, she was due to spend the rest of the shift in the area car and she'd better get on with it, even if she didn't like the way he was looking at her again.

'I'll just put these away,' she said, picking up the files and doing her best to ignore his wolfish stare as she walked along the corridor.

Smithy was in the office, slurping on a coffee and flicking through some pages on his desk. Glancing up as she came in, he asked, 'Don't suppose you know what's going on with DI Nixon, do you?'

'No,' she answered, feeling her stomach muscles tighten. 'What are you talking about?'

'Journalist banging down the door and now it's all kicked off with a strange man and her daughter.'

Though she was fascinated and concerned in equal measure, she tried to feign nonchalance. 'I don't know,' she said dumping her files onto her desk. 'Is Abigail okay?'

'The journalist's out on his ear, Abigail's gone upstairs with Eva and the DI's taken this fella into the canteen. With you being friends and all, I thought you might know what it's about.'

'No,' she murmured, 'I don't.'

He opened his mouth to respond but Ruby Buxton's head appeared in the doorway. 'Sarge,' she said, directing her words to Smithy, 'there's a journalist in reception. He won't leave, he's insisting on speaking to the DI.'

Smithy put his cup down. 'I'll deal with it.'

As the two of them disappeared down the corridor Des stuck his head through the door and asked, 'You all right, Sarge?'

She cleared her throat and tried to stifle her concerns about what on earth was going on with Sam and Abi and what it all had to do with Dougie Pritchard. If she ruled out the Matt Boyden scenario – and Sheelagh very much had by now – then could it be that this strange man Smithy was talking about was something to do with the secret about Abigail's parentage? It was the most obvious solution as far as she could see.

'Sarge?' Des pressed. 'Are we out of here or not?'

Reluctantly, she picked up her hat. 'Let's go.'

Although she began brooding as soon as they got into the car, she didn't have much of a chance to carry it on when they nearly ran over a man in the road, though it looked as though somebody had already got there first. Fortunately, he was still conscious – if disorientated – and they tried to get some idea of what had happened and how badly hurt he was.

'How many fingers am I holding up?' Sheelagh questioned, holding up three.

'Hey,' Des said, 'you nearly poked my eye out then.'

'Sorry,' she murmured, glancing to him and feeling her chest constrict.

'It's all right,' he replied with a grin, 'I'll get over it.'

Turning her attention back to the victim, she said, 'We'd better leave it. He's hit his head, he doesn't know which way is up.'

At least focusing on him meant she could avoid the twirls of her stomach brought on by Des's close proximity. Though he made ingratiating comments throughout their journey to the hospital, she managed to deflect it all with work talk. Only when they were standing in A&E waiting to talk to the man again did she allow Des to steer the conversation back in the direction he wanted to, and that was only because he distracted her by placing one hand above her head on the pillar she was leaning against, effectively blocking her in.

'What are you doing later?' he asked.

'I'm going home to see my family,' she answered.

'Thought you might fancy a drink,' he said. 'So we can discuss that little incident.'

Sheelagh barely withheld her grimace. 'Look, there's nothing to discuss. I kissed you, it was a mistake. I'm sorry.'

'I didn't mean that,' said Des.

She sighed. 'What did you mean?'

'Well, now that you've mentioned it...' He slotted an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the bustle of the ward, making every muscle in her body buzz with anxiety. 'I mean, maybe we should talk about that. Obviously, it's been playing on your mind. Maybe you want to get things off your chest, get things out in the open, so to speak.'

His cheekiness made her smile. Then again, his cheekiness always made her smile. Fortunately, before she was forced to come up with a response he'd accept they were allowed to speak to their victim. Though he obviously knew more than he was letting on about the car that had hit him, he claimed obliviousness and they were forced to accept that for now. Besides, by the time they'd done at the hospital it was nearing the end of the shift and she was eager to get home and get away from Des.

She was straightening things up in the Sergeants' Office when Tony walked past. He caught sight of her and doubled back.

'You're friends with the DI, aren't you?'

She wasn't quite sure how everyone seemed to know that but, right now, she wasn't too fussed about the particulars. Instead, she beckoned Tony into the office and gestured for him to close the door.

'What is it, Tone?' she questioned.

'I'm not gossiping,' he said.

'I know you're not,' she answered with a smile. 'I am friends with Sam and, tell you the truth, I'm worried about her. I've heard dribs and drabs this afternoon, but I don't know what's going on.'

'The latest,' Tony said after a moment, 'is that she had me drive this strange man away from the station. Wouldn't say who he was, but he was very shifty-looking if you ask me. Didn't say much when I dropped him off. They were worried about him being chased by reporters.'

Sheelagh thought about that then questioned, 'How old is he?'

Tony surveyed her shrewdly. 'What do you mean?'

'Could he be an old friend of Sam's?' she clarified, aware that he knew what she was driving at.

'Very likely, yeah,' he said.

'Did she seem okay?' she asked.

'On edge,' he answered. 'I know her daughter's still hanging around the station though.'

'Cheers, Tone,' she said. 'I appreciate it.'

He nodded then slipped out of the office. She glanced around then proceeded with her earlier plan of getting changed. If Abi was still in the station then she doubted Sam would particularly want to talk to her. Better to contain her curiosity and speak to her tomorrow.

At least thinking about Samantha Nixon's problems kept her mind away from Des as she got changed. By the time she left the station she was so preoccupied with her pondering that she didn't realise the objects of her thoughts were walking through the other door into the front office. Though she only managed a quick glance, it seemed as though both mother and daughter had spent quite a bit of time today crying. She wouldn't mention it, of course. Sam looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and Abi was clutching her elbows until her knuckles turned white.

Sheelagh reached the main door before them and pushed it open before holding it for them. Seeing her had sent Sam into something of a panic – her eyes were flicking in every direction but hers and Sheelagh's heart sank a little. This morning she'd felt as though she and Sam had passed beyond cordial friendship and were closer than she could've anticipated when she joined Sun Hill a few months ago. Hearing Sam defend her articulately against Debbie McAllister had given her such a warm feeling considering the detachment everyone else seemed to experience from her. Judging from the furtive expression on her face now, though, Sheelagh suspected they were moving backwards and she inwardly sighed.

Abi suddenly grasped her arm as they moved away from the entrance. 'Sheelagh, tell her. You're her friend, tell her.'

Halting, Sheelagh glanced between the pair of them. 'What do you mean?'

'Abigail,' Sam said sharply. 'Stop it.'

'Maybe you'll listen to her,' Abi snapped. 'You care what she thinks, even if you don't care about me.'

'We are not doing this,' Sam said, gripping her daughter's arm and dragging her along the pavement. 'Sorry, Sheelagh.'

'Wait,' she said, 'is there anything I can do to help?'

'You can get her to see sense,' Abi called.

'Come on,' Sam growled, turning around and holding up a hand. 'Forget it – everything's fine.'

Sheelagh watched them leave with a heavy heart. Whatever was going on, she was in no doubt that she was excluded, however much Abigail seemed to crave her help. That saddened her, even if she'd have a hard time explaining why to an impartial observer. She and Sam may have been friends, yes, but she didn't know how much that meant in DI Nixon's world. One thing was for certain – something was badly wrong in the Nixon household and it wasn't likely she was going to find out what. The lack of trust Sam showed in her just then was palpable, though perhaps it was merely desperation to get Abi home that was driving her back into herself.

The next morning came around far too quickly. Between her thoughts about Sam and her thoughts about Des, Sheelagh hadn't had a good night. At the station, of course, she was the epitome of professional. One of her first tasks was to go up to CID to get an update on the armed robbery response from DS Hunter. She was bracing herself for some kind of contact with Sam but she was late in and, from what she could gather, hardly Phil Hunter's favourite person today. In his usual arrogant manner he told her to make the relief available to check CCTV and identify suspects, Des especially, and she returned downstairs to hold the briefing.

Des was there, of course, revelling in his role as hero after being shot at yesterday. She indulged him as much as anyone else, mainly because it was easier than scolding him at the moment. Before the briefing was over she also had to introduce new probationer PC Gabriel Kent, a little older than the usual new-starter. There was a story there, she was sure, but she couldn't be bothered trying to fathom it out now.

The favourite topic of conversation in the nick was Samantha Nixon's exploits of the day before. Wherever Sheelagh went she heard whispers, whether it was about Abi's presence in the station yesterday, the journalist hanging around or the unidentified man that everyone seemed to know about. Some of them were theorising in the right direction, though Sheelagh wouldn't accept her conclusions were correct about who the strange man was until Sam had confirmed it. However, the way things were at the moment, who was to say whether she ever would?

Putting her faith in work to distract her, she went to liaise with CSU on some outstanding cases then Des caught her on her way back downstairs. Apparently a blue BMW similar to the one which had hit their victim last night had been reported missing. With every minute spent in the car with Des she began to feel as uncomfortable as she had every day recently. She was grateful when they reached the address, less so when they found themselves in a room with a pregnant woman and a man who Sheelagh wanted to throttle after thirty seconds.

When they got out of the house, Des commented, 'I thought she seemed nervous.'

Sheelagh snorted. 'Expecting a baby and married to him, I'm not surprised.'

'I meant about us,' Des said.

'He didn't seem worried,' replied Sheelagh.

'Maybe that's because she backed him up,' returned Des. 'Married life, it's a beautiful thing.'

She patted him on the shoulder. 'Don't knock it till you've tried it.'

As she walked around the car, he answered, 'Listen, I'd rather slash my wrists than have what they've got in there. Anyway, at my age all the best women are taken.'

His insinuating tone made her look across the car roof, and then she was sorry she had. Maybe he meant it half in jest, but it hadn't come across that way. She knew what he was thinking and, truth be told, she was thinking it too now. It made the journey back to the nick unbearably tense.

Later, she found herself returning to the Moorfield residence after the car turned up and was confirmed as the vehicle involved in the hit-and-run. After a little pressure the wife admitted that she couldn't give her husband an alibi for the previous night because she was out. Picking up Des from the station, they went to visit the victim again, despite his lack of interest in prosecution. They soon realised it was because there was a connection between the Moorfields and the victim after all – he was the wife's salsa partner and it looked like the husband had mown him down as revenge.

'What,' Des said, 'just for dancing with his wife?'

'Some men, it don't even take that much,' answered Greg.

That struck home and she couldn't help but glance at Des. Patrick wasn't the violent sort, no matter what his criminal record said. However, the way she'd been behaving around Des was reprehensible and she couldn't predict how Patrick would react if he found out about it. She had to put a stop to it. All of a sudden, she felt disappointed that Patrick was away tonight. She'd happily waved him off, grateful for the bed to herself for a few days but now she wanted his reassuring warmth, something to take her mind off what a horrible woman she was turning into.

They brought in Ed Moorfield on suspicion of assault and suffered through an infuriatingly misogynistic interview. Personally, Sheelagh wouldn't blame the wife if she had been seeing her salsa partner, though there was no excuse for adultery in her eyes. Ed demonstrated where his priorities lay when he produced another alibi for the hit-and-run – he claimed he'd been with an escort while his wife was out. They returned him to the cells then went to her office where she put in a call to the escort agency and asked for them to make enquiries with the escort involved.

She was still on the phone when Des commented, 'If she really hasn't slept with him since she became pregnant the fella deserves some sympathy, doesn't he?'

Ending the call, she stood. 'Listen, if he uses an escort service for himself and then complains about her and this fella, that makes him a hypocrite in my book.'

'What's good for the goose and all that,' Des said.

'You mean the other way round,' she retorted.

'I mean both ways,' he replied.

'Yeah,' she said, 'and it doesn't do any of them any good if they get in this mess.'

Before he could argue with that, the phone rang and she reached for it. Unfortunately, it was the escort confirming Ed Moorfield's story, putting them right back to square one. They were forced to release him without charge, but before they could investigate further they were called to a disturbance at the Moorfield residence.

When they arrived they found husband and wife embroiled in a physical fight on their front lawn, which might be all well and good if Lisa wasn't heavily pregnant. She and Des waded in to separate them, Sheelagh putting herself in front of Lisa and getting them both knocked to the ground in the process. Des then tackled the husband and all four of them ended up on the grass. Turning over, she found herself next to Des and, on impulse, squeezed his arm when he asked if she was all right. As Des yanked the husband to his feet, Sheelagh helped the wife up. Even the presence of two police officers didn't stop Ed going for his wife again. He wasn't only misogynistic and thoroughly unpleasant but he was obviously stupid as well. He must've had some redeeming features when Lisa had married him, even if they seemed invisible now.

Moorfield was safely banged up in the cells and Lisa was being checked over by the FME. Sheelagh sent Des back to see the hit-and-run victim while she waited for a chance to speak with Lisa again. Then she took her into the front interview room to take her statement on the assault by her husband. In a bizarre conversation, Lisa suggested that Ed was jealous of the baby, something Sheelagh couldn't begin to understand.

Just as they were finishing up, Des knocked on the door and requested a private word with her. She followed him into the front office and shot him a questioning look.

'I've just been talking to Greg Townsend,' he explained. 'I think Lisa ran him over.'

'Why?' she asked.

'Because I think he's the father of her baby and he doesn't want to know,' answered Des.

Sheelagh frowned. 'Did he accuse her?'

'No,' he admitted.

'So what do you wanna do?' she questioned.

'Ask her,' he said simply.

Gesturing him towards the interview room, she muttered, 'Right.'

It turned out his hunch was correct, though Lisa wouldn't admit it directly. The look on her face unfortunately couldn't be taken as evidence and they were forced to watch her flee without saying one incriminating word.

As they were walking towards her office, Des growled. 'Not being able to prosecute, that's what really gets to me. It gets under my skin,' he went on. 'Especially when you know they've done it.'

'What people won't do for a bit on the side,' she commented.

'You know one of the first shouts I went on, it was this kebab shop owner,' Des said after a moment. 'Now he'd robbed his own till and I knew he'd robbed his own till and he knew I knew that he'd robbed his own till, but when I looked him in the eye he still lied to me. It's always stayed with me, that.'

'It's frustrating,' she replied.

The phone in her office was ringing along the corridor. She dropped the files she was carrying onto the desk and picked it up, surprised to hear Connor's voice on the line. Of course he wanted to stay at his friend's when the choice was staying home alone with her. Patrick, Declan and Siobhan were all away. She was aware of Des listening in on the conversation from his place in the doorway and answered his questioning expression with the truth – a giant mistake.

He immediately nudged the door shut with his foot and approached her, an unmistakable look in his eye. When he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss she couldn't resist yielding, even if only for a moment. Then she dragged herself away.

'Des, don't,' she said.

'What do you wanna go home for?' he asked. 'There's no one there.'

'That's not the point,' she replied, shrugging his arms off.

'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'Point is, I want you more than I've wanted anyone in my life. I've never felt this way, Sheelagh.'

She stared at his earnest face then reality caught up with her and she pushed past him. 'I can't do this.'

Grabbing at her arm, he said, 'I'll wait as long as it takes. Make it easier on both of us – come home with me while we've got the chance.'

'No,' she said firmly, prising his fingers from her jumper and yanking the door open. 'It's nearly the end of the shift, PC Taviner. Make sure you write up your report on the Moorfield case in the morning.'

Without another word, he stomped past her. Immediately, she felt the loss. It was lucky they were in the middle of the station or her resolve might've cracked. As it was, she took a few moments to lean against her desk before she pulled herself together and finished up the things she needed to. When she went to the changing rooms a little while later, she was beginning to feel a little more like herself.

As she yanked her jumper off the door opened and Gina entered. 'Sheelagh,' she said, 'fancy coming to the pub for a drink?'

'Oh, no, thanks,' she answered. 'It's a rare treat to have the house empty so I've got a hot date with a nice bath and the telly.' Gina acknowledged the wisdom of that with a shrug and turned to the door. Sheelagh was tugging her tie free when she remembered to question, 'Did you meet the new probationer?'

Gina spun on her heel and walked back. 'I did,' she said slowly.

Sheelagh began unbuttoning her shirt. 'What do you think?'

'Well, he's a bloke's bloke,' he answered. 'He'd get on very well with Des. That's where his centre of gravity is, if you know what I mean. I'll see you tomorrow,' she concluded before slipping out of the door.

'Night,' she muttered.

Left alone again, she found her mind irresistibly drawn back to Des, not helped much by Gina's words. She finished changing then rested her palm against the cool locker. The prospect of going home to an empty house was less enticing than she had made out to Gina. In fact, she was dreading it but she just didn't fancy being at the pub with the relief, especially if Des decided to tag along.

The Moorfield case and the feelings it had stirred up about Des had distracted her from the station gossip about Sam and Abi. Now, though, she found herself intrigued again. Grabbing her jacket, she climbed the stairs to CID. It was relatively late and there were only a few officers still around, Eva and Juliet amongst them. Even so, Sheelagh had no doubt that when she rounded the corner to Sam's private office she'd find her occupying her chair and she wasn't disappointed.

Diligently working, the only indication that Sheelagh could find to suggest that Sam was less than okay was the way she bit down on her lip until it should rightly have drawn blood. As Sheelagh stepped over the threshold Sam became aware of her presence and looked up. The expression on her face suggested she was gearing herself up for a fight then, seeing her, it morphed into something closer to fear. She dropped her pen and clasped her hands together on the desk.

'Are you all right?' Sheelagh asked.

'Course,' Sam replied with a false smile.

'What's going on?' she pressed.

Abruptly, Sam stood, rounding the desk and pushing the door closed. 'Nothing,' she said.

'Nothing?' repeated Sheelagh.

Sam swallowed. 'Nothing.'

Sighing, Sheelagh said, 'You can tell me anything, I think you know that by now.'

There was a moment when she thought Sam might yield. She squeezed her eyes closed and her chin shook as she opened her mouth. Then the shutters came down. Sheelagh had seen it before but seeing it now was worse. She truly thought she'd broken down Sam's defences to the extent that, when she was obviously struggling to cope, she might confide in her about it. Before her holiday Sam had said, only half-jokingly, that Sheelagh could see right through her. What she saw at the moment was a woman in pain recoiling from her aid. It wasn't a pretty sight.

'I can't,' Sam said, opening her eyes.

Sheelagh searched her face. 'Sam, what are you so scared of?'

She just shook her head.

Feeling the rejection keenly, Sheelagh reached for the door handle. 'Fine,' she said. 'I'll not disturb you any longer.'

Without another word or a backward glance, she left the office, aware of the anger in her gait and attributing it as much to Des as Sam. Even so, her fury must've shown on her face as she tramped out of CID. She was at the top of the staircase when footsteps caught up with her. She half-hoped it was Sam but it wasn't.

'Sarge,' Eva said, 'whatever the DI said, I wouldn't pay much attention to it.'

She frowned. 'Excuse me?'

'Looked like she was giving you a hard time, that's all,' replied Eva. 'Don't take it personally. She's just got some private stuff going on at the moment so don't take it to heart, yeah?'

Crossing her arms, Sheelagh repeated, 'Private stuff?'

'That's right,' Eva replied.

'I suppose you know what it's all about?' she questioned coldly.

Eva looked perplexed. 'Well, yeah.'

Sheelagh spun on her heel and started down the staircase. She heard Eva call after her but she elected to ignore it. The fact that Eva was in Sam's confidence when she wasn't irked more than it should and she wasn't going to hang around to listen to lectures on cutting the DI some slack. There was a marked difference in Sam keeping her troubles to herself and deliberately excluding someone she had begun to treat as a close friend. Perhaps Sheelagh wouldn't feel it so deeply if the situation with Des wasn't tormenting it as much as it was, though she suspected it would still hurt. How could Samantha prove she cared about her one day then push her away the next?

Stepping out into the evening sunshine, she trudged down the road, focusing on her plan of a bath and an evening in front of the telly. She was rather glad Patrick and the kids were away, with the mood she was currently in. As she began walking, however, she felt the presence of a car beside her. When she glanced over she found Des in that wreck of a car of his, driving slowly alongside her with a determined expression on his face. Her instinct was to ignore him but he pulled over and stepped in front of her before she could escape.

'What?' she asked.

Now he had her attention he hesitated. 'I feel like I'm making a right fool out of myself here, but I meant what I said in there.'

'I know you did,' she replied.

Prowling around, he came to rest against the fence. 'Come home with me then.'

'I can't,' she said.

'Yes, you can,' he argued.

'I'm married,' she said. 'I have teenage children.'

Pushing off from the fence, he began to circle her. 'Yeah, and you look after them, you bring them up well, you've got a good husband and you hold your job down and there's nothing wrong with any of that. Except you want more.'

She turned to face him, if only to rid herself of the feeling that he was studying her without her consent. 'Look,' she told him. 'I'm too old for this fluttering hearts and fumbling hands stuff.'

'You want more,' he insisted. 'I can see you do.'

'Why me?' she demanded. 'Why are you doing this?'

'Will you get in the car?' When she hesitated, he pressed, 'Just for a minute?'

It was as though her feet were moving without her consent. At the door she hesitated again then her body decided for her and slid into the passenger seat. It was hardly the first time she'd been in close proximity to Des recently but this felt more dangerous.

'Look,' he said, drawing her gaze over to him. 'I know this may sound stupid, but right now I can't stand the thought of being without you.'

She snorted and tore her eyes from him. 'The one that got away.'

'You give me something,' he argued. 'Something different.'

When he sighed she couldn't help but look at him again. 'What?' she demanded.

'I don't know,' he replied. 'But it's something I've never had before.'

His sincerity shook what resolve she had left and she reached for his hand. 'What makes you think I've got it?'

'You just do,' he returned, leaning over and kissing her. The last time she'd succumbed to him in this car she'd had the excuse of exhaustion and stress; now she was just giving in and Des knew that. Pulling back, he questioned, 'So are you coming or what?'

Stretching her hand back for the seatbelt, she smiled at him. A smug expression crossed his face as he ground the engine into life and they began cruising away from Sun Hill, the atmosphere in the car prickling at her skin.

* * *

The fog over her brain lasted until the middle of the night. Then she came to her senses and slipped out of his bed. Every ounce of her common sense told her not to leave in the middle of the night. With the network of cabbies around London it would be just her luck for word to get back to Patrick and she couldn't have that. Nor could she face a lengthy walk in the darkness. Being held hostage by a lunatic had rather dented her belief that she could defend herself if the need arose. She wasn't on the ball so she'd have to stay the night.

As soon as the sky began to lighten, she left. She barely thought about Des beyond extricating herself as quietly as possible. The streets were quiet, almost beautiful in this light. She tried to focus on that to avoid the reality of what she'd done. It worked – until she rounded the corner onto her own street, of course. Then it hit her full force. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door. Everything was quiet inside, too quiet. The house was never like this. It was as though her life had been plucked out of it and everyone was gone. Feeling that sharply, she nudged the door closed and stood in the hallway for several minutes before she managed to pull herself together. She had to get a few hours sleep before her late shift or she'd be in trouble with Inspector Gold on top of everything else.

She didn't sleep well, but at least she slept. When she dragged herself into work she felt worse than if she'd been drinking for twelve straight hours. Fortunately, most of the relief were too delicate to point it out. She wasn't as lucky with the inspector though.

'You look worse than some of the yobs you'll be picking up,' Gina commented before she left the briefing room. 'Are you sure you're okay to lead out there?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she replied curtly.

Gina's eyes narrowed at her tone. 'Off you trot then,' she said.

Sheelagh suspected she'd hear more about this later but, right now, she was eager to get away. Slipping out of the door, she headed to her office to collect her belongings then set off for the yard. However, as she rounded the corner she nearly hurtled into Sam. Immediately, she drew back, holding up a hand.

'Sorry, Guv,' she said. 'I didn't see you.'

The formal address slid from her tongue before she had chance to think about it. She supposed it was her exhausted subconscious edging ahead, isolating Sam's rejection from the previous night from her tumultuous feelings about Des. From the brief scrutinising look she allowed herself, she could see that Sam's mask was stretched further than yesterday and the surprise at her formality was plain.

Sam blinked and swallowed. 'Listen, Sheelagh –'

'What?' she cut in.

The usually unruffled DI Samantha Nixon didn't seem to know what to say. Sheelagh had encountered this several times in the last few months but yesterday's rejection of her help still stung too deeply for her to smooth things over. For someone usually in control of herself, Sheelagh suddenly felt detached from most markers of normality. Maybe she would've confided in Sam had she felt their friendship meant as much to her as it did to Sheelagh. If Sam had spoken to her last night about her litany of troubles then perhaps she'd have felt able to do the same. As it was, she was beginning to wonder if all she'd been for Samantha Nixon was a convenient ear, suddenly superseded by Eva Sharpe.

'Look,' Sheelagh said, 'you've no need to explain yourself to me. Eva's already told me that it was a personal matter.'

Sam's lips parted. 'It isn't like you think, Sheelagh.'

'It doesn't matter,' she replied. 'I have to get on.'

Brushing past her, she carried on along the corridor. Part of her wanted to turn around and sort this out, but it was overwhelmed by simmering irritation coupled with guilt over Des. Actually, with all the thoughts swirling around her head she was surprised she was still able to function. She didn't want to prove Gina right, she wanted to work the shift and take her mind off her troubles. That wasn't going to be so easy, she realised, when she remembered that she was going to be in the van with Des alongside Reg and Gabriel. It was going to be another exercise in torture.

Though Des tried to catch her eye in the yard, she managed to avoid it. The first couple of hours of the shift were fairly routine. They dealt with a few pub disturbances but they were mainly braced for chucking out time. Des, thankfully, didn't attempt to start a conversation with her. He exchanged banter with Reg and, especially, Gabriel in the back seat. Sheelagh was reminded of what Gina had said the other day about them being similar and she inwardly grimaced. Granted, she didn't know Gabriel very well but she could honestly say she hadn't warmed to him on first sight. Perhaps that's because he was a little too like Des – without his better qualities. What had drawn her to Des had been the man underneath the macho exterior. The moment she had seen that, coupled with the undeniable physical attraction she felt, she was probably doomed to make the mistake she had last night. Even so, that didn't excuse it, not one bit.

'Sarge?'

She flinched. It was Reg who'd spoken but all three of them were looking at her strangely. Wondering what she'd missed, she tried to appear professional. 'Yes, Reg?'

'Should we get involved in that, do you think?' he asked.

Fortunately, he was pointing to something beyond her head that she couldn't possibly have seen. Looking around, she saw a fracas between two drunken girls. It petered out within seconds and they wandered off in different directions. Sheelagh settled back in her seat, painfully aware of Des's gaze. When, a few minutes later, they were asked to relocate to a particular trouble-spot she was grateful of the activity.

They were thrown into the thick of a dispute outside a nightclub, with one fella in particular causing a real ruckus. Although Des wanted to nick him she was more circumspect. A night arresting every drunk they came across was going to result in a heap of paperwork and less time on the streets actually dispersing the idiots.

Some of them, though, they had to take back to base. As Reg and Gabriel were unloading the prisoners, she sensed Des about to corner her and tried to make it inside before he had a chance. It didn't work though – he caught her up on the ramp.

'Eh, you're playing it cool, aren't you?' he asked.

She tried not to look in his direction. 'Sorry?'

'Well, you weren't so cool last night,' he said. 'I've got the bites to prove it.'

The comment made her flush and, stopping, she lowered her voice. 'If you want fluttering eyelids and sniggering, Des, you've picked the wrong woman,' she answered. 'Last night was a one-off. Excuse me.'

Pushing past him, she went in through custody, too aware that he was on her heels as she headed towards her office. She half-hoped he'd leave it be but that wasn't his style. Once they were out of the bustle of custody he tried again.

'I had a really good time last night,' he said.

'We both carved another notch on the bed post,' she replied as they stopped inside her office doorway. She didn't want to be alone with him if she could help it.

'What are you talking about?' she questioned.

'That's what you do, isn't it?' Sheelagh retorted.

Des frowned. 'I don't know – is it? I mean, you might've been here before but I haven't.' Though she repressed her snort, she couldn't help the disbelieving smile that slipped onto her face. 'Look,' he went on, 'I don't want this to come out wrong, but you know when you're really looking forward to something and you get it and it's a let down? Well, it isn't with you.'

Before she could absorb those words and formulate a response, Gina came out of her office across the corridor. Feeling caught, Sheelagh tried to clear her face.

'Custody seems to be filling up at a rate of knots,' Gina said. 'What's happened?'

'It's Friday night, Ma'am,' she said.

'I know what night it is,' replied Gina.

Of course she did. Cringing, Sheelagh endured a mini-rant courtesy of the inspector, all the while feeling like a teenager hiding a secret boyfriend from her parents. From the way Gina's eyebrows contracted further than usual, she couldn't say her attempts to act normally had paid off.

'Well, don't just stand there,' Gina said. 'Get out there if it's so busy. Come on, chop chop.'

'Ma'am,' said Des promptly and strode off down the corridor. Without his presence, Sheelagh felt a little better – but not much.

'Is there something wrong with Des?' Gina questioned.

'No, Ma'am,' Sheelagh said.

'Good.' Gina held her gaze for a moment then retreated to her office. The knot in Sheelagh's stomach unravelled a little, but the realisation that she had to get back in the van with Des squashed any relief she might've felt. She took a minute to check her messages then steeled herself to get back out on the streets.

It being Canley on a Friday night, things only got worse out there. They stumbled across a man being beaten up at the roadside and, while Sheelagh was tending to him, Des found the rowdy lad he'd wanted to arrest earlier barely breathing on the other side of the street. They kept him alive until the ambulance arrived, accompanied by Inspector Gold. Gina instantly demanded to know why she didn't arrest the group earlier. Knowing she was off the ball didn't ease Sheelagh's sense of guilt and she accepted Gina's dressing-down silently. Only once the inspector had stomped off did Des circle back around to her.

'Was she having a go at you?' he asked.

Ignoring him, she questioned, 'Did Reg and Gabriel find anything?'

'Er, they found a tube ticket and a brick that they must have hit him with,' he replied after a moment. 'It's not your fault, you know,' he added.

'Don't look after me, Des,' she warned. 'I don't need it.'

With that, she went to check that the location of the two victims had been thoroughly searched then ushered Reg and Gabriel back into the van. They had to wait a few minutes for Des to join them and then he was uncharacteristically quiet as they relocated to another trouble-spot.

When a fight kicked off a little later, Reg and Gabriel left the van to deal with it. Sheelagh had expected Des to go with them and, when he didn't, felt her entire body stiffen

'I wanted to say something to you back at the station,' he said quietly.

'Des, give it up,' she tried. 'I don't need this.'

Look,' he continued, 'you've got me all wrong. I wasn't trying to be cool. What I wanted to say, I'm not very good with the words, is that when I unwrapped you it was...it was brilliant and if something's that good then it's gotta be mutual, hasn't it?'

To say he wasn't very eloquent, she couldn't help but smile and look over at him. 'Yeah, okay, you weren't so bad yourself,' she conceded.

'So why are you treating it like a one-night stand?' he pressed.

Groaning, she rested her head in her hands for a few seconds. 'Oh, I don't know,' she muttered.

'Well, don't,' he said. 'Because something like that... Well, it's best repeated, not forgotten.'

She glanced out of the window and sat up straighter. 'Look, now Reg is coming back. Now shush.'

'I wanna take you home with me again,' he persisted.

'Stop it, Des,' she said. 'It's a sin. It's adultery.'

He shook his head. 'You can't say that.'

'Stop it,' she insisted. 'Please.'

'I can't stop,' he returned. 'Not now I know what I'm missing.'

Fortunately, Reg lumbered back into the van followed by Gabriel. Des immediately started the engine, covering what could've been an awkward pause with a tirade about late shifts. Sheelagh tuned out as they travelled through the dark streets then a request came through from Inspector Gold for them to check in on the GBH victim at St Hughes before returning to the station. Sheelagh was eager to go in alone but Des was on her heels before she realised it. Once inside, she made an excuse about needing to use the ladies and took a few minutes to gather herself together in the safety of a cubicle, possibly the only place imaginable Des wouldn't follow her at the moment. Then she washed her face and went in search of the victim. She saw him being wheeled off along the corridor, apparently in a bad way, and approached Des hovering by the curtain.

'Where are they taking him?' she questioned.

'Down the operating theatre. He's got a brain haemorrhage.' When she sighed, he added, 'Look, it's not your fault.'

She frowned at him. 'That's the second time you've said that.'

'That's because it isn't,' he said.

'Which makes it sound like it is,' she retorted before turning to leave.

He caught up with her by the entrance, though he didn't say anything else. Reg was interested in the victim, at least giving them something to talk about during the short drive back to the station. As soon as they separated in the yard, she sought sanctuary in her office, killing the minutes until the shift finished by writing up her report for the GBH. Of course, she couldn't expect Des to leave it there and he knocked on the door half an hour later with his own report.

'Thanks,' she said, taking the file.

'Do you, erm, want me to wait or are you making your own way?' he questioned.

'I'm not coming, Des. I'm not in the mood.' As footsteps echoed along the corridor, he looked over his shoulder, reminding her of the risks they were taking. 'It's been a hard night,' she said.

'All the more reason,' he replied.

'I'm going home to my family,' she answered firmly. 'Another time?'

'Right,' he muttered.

He slammed the door and she sighed. It was the right decision, though she felt a slither of regret that she immediately tried to smother with her sense of responsibility. A one-off with Des was hardly justifiable but it was better than a full-blown affair. Maybe it was her guilt talking, making her desperate to go home and get involved in the usual family squabbles. Not that there'd be much time to do that with her next shift looming. With that in mind, she finished up her paperwork and headed home, desperate to get her head on her pillow.

* * *

The next shift came around sooner than she liked. Thanks to Patrick starting early and the kids bashing about as they got themselves together, she didn't get much sleep. Des kept resurfacing in her mind and so, to combat it, she focused on the GBH victim and the fact that she should've arrested him when they'd first encountered him. Thinking about the case at least gave her an outlet and by the time she got into work she decided she'd like to run with it – if CID hadn't already started an investigation. As soon as she'd changed into her uniform she went upstairs, realising belatedly that Sam was likely to be there. Perhaps, unconsciously, she was seeking her out as she would've done if she'd had the slightest idea that Sam would be interested in how conflicted she was feeling.

There was no obvious flash of blonde hair when she walked through the doors and most of the desks were empty. Breathing a little easier, she approached Mickey slumped over his paperwork.

'I was just wondering if anyone was dealing with the GBH from last night,' she said. 'Young lad suffered a brain haemorrhage, he's in St Hughes.'

Mickey sat back in her chair, evidently pleased for the distraction. 'Not assigned yet because he hadn't woken up and everyone's snowed under.' When her attention slipped down to his paperwork, he let out a wry chuckle. 'Court case, yeah? Believe me, I'd rather be out there doing some proper police work.'

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam emerging from the direction of her office and stiffened. Focusing on Mickey, Sheelagh said, 'If you've no objection I'd like to stay with it.'

Grinning, he said, 'You doing our work for us? Yeah, I can cope with that.'

'Cheers,' she said, eager to get away. 'I'll let you know how we get on.'

When he nodded she made a break for the door but Sam was suddenly blocking her way. Though her stance was combative, Sheelagh read the pain in her eyes immediately. Despite the way Sam had shut her out, her instantaneous reaction was compassion. She'd spent too much time over the last few months growing close to this woman not to feel for her, even while she was still smarting from her rejection.

'I need to explain something,' Sam said quietly.

Sheelagh glanced around, much as she had when speaking to Des the night before. 'There's no need,' she said.

'Look,' Sam went on, forehead contracted, 'Eva overheard a conversation. I didn't choose to tell her what was going on, if that's what you're thinking.'

'But you chose not to tell me,' Sheelagh pointed out. 'And you're still doing it.'

Sam's hand swung forward, as if reaching for her. 'Okay, listen, I accept that but can you really say you've been honest with me a hundred percent?'

The bullet struck home. Sheelagh knew that on more than one occasion in the last month Sam had noticed her holding something back. Her reluctance to confide in her about Des might not seem comparable to whatever was driving Samantha to distraction but it was holding back nonetheless. Sighing, she shifted her weight and the expression on Sam's face eased.

'I'll explain,' she continued with a pained smile. 'I promise I'll –'

Beside them, the doors banged open and DCI Meadows steamed in. 'Samantha – Super's office. Now.'

He didn't wait for a response, spinning around and stomping back along the corridor. Sheelagh turned her attention back to Sam, mute like a mannequin and twice as pale. Whatever she had been about to say faded into the air as she visibly drew herself together. It was something Sheelagh could never fail to be impressed by – from her very first week at Sun Hill Sam's ability to adopt the mask as and when she needed it had startled her. Now, though, she saw the chinks; she guessed how much it was costing her.

'I'm sorry,' Sam murmured.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'Go.'

After a moment of hesitation Sam swallowed then nodded. As she moved past, Sheelagh reached out and squeezed her forearm. Sam glanced back and met her eye, grateful and sincere. Suddenly, not knowing the truth didn't matter as much to Sheelagh as it had five minutes ago. There was enough honesty in that look to convince her that her friendship was more than welcome, perhaps even valuable.

She watched Sam leave then followed her onto the landing slowly, seeing her square her shoulders before knocking and being admitted to the Super's office. A meeting with both DCI Meadows and Mr Okaro with that type of summons was hardly run-of-the-mill but Sheelagh wouldn't speculate. Perhaps Sam would explain in her own good time, 'maybe someday' as she'd said once.

Meanwhile, Sheelagh had an assault to investigate. She shook herself and walked down the back stairs, seeing Des hovering in the corridor. Steeling herself, she approached him.

'Des,' she said, 'about last night.'

He glanced at her as they began walking. 'Like I said,' he replied, 'I can wait.'

She withheld her grimace and tried to maintain her professional air. 'I mean the GBH,' she explained. 'I'm gonna get some more details off the lad with the bloody nose. I want you to chase up the tube ticket,' she added. 'See if one of the others dropped it. It's date and time stamped so you should be able to get something off the CCTV.'

'What about CID?' Des asked.

'I've told them we're keeping it,' she answered.

Frowning, he asked, 'Why?'

'I feel responsible,' she admitted.

He still looked confused, as if the concept of responsibility was beyond him. 'Is that because the wicked witch has had a go at you?'

'No,' she said. 'I just do.'

'Well, I was there and I don't feel responsible so you shouldn't,' he replied as they passed through the doors into the yard.

Sheelagh shrugged. 'Well, I've told CID we're keeping it so we are.'

Des stopped at the top of the ramp and she followed suit. 'Are you okay?' he questioned.

'I'm fine,' she murmured, even as her gaze drifted down his body. So much for keeping her distance. Maybe succumbing to Sam's apology upstairs had left her too open for any chat with Des.

'You know this you feeling responsible,' he said after a moment, 'are you sure it's about the assault?'

'I'm fine,' she repeated. Unable to resist, she picked a speck of fluff from his jumper, only for him to draw back, more aware of where they were than she was. Embarrassed, she muttered, 'So please, Des, see if the tube ticket gets us anywhere.'

Only when she walked away did she begin to feel more in control. Then the investigation itself began to sap that from her. The first lad they'd found last night was distinctly unhelpful, claiming he didn't know any of the lads he was with. A blatant lie, of course, and one she pulled him up on. Even so, he wouldn't budge.

It didn't help that when she returned to the station she was accosted by Gina on her way into her office.

'Why are you doing CID's work?' she demanded.

Sheelagh winced. 'Do you mean the GBH?'

'I do,' Gina returned.

'It's just that uniform were involved from the start,' she replied. 'I thought it'd be more effective.'

'Tying up three officers is not effective,' said Gina.

'Three?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Des, Reg and Gabriel.'

'I only tasked Des,' she said. 'I just wanted to see it through, Ma'am.'

Gina frowned. 'I can see that but why?'

Uneasy, she answered, 'I just did.'

'Is something bothering you?' Gina asked.

'No,' she lied. 'Why?'

'Well, you're not as sharp as usual,' said Gina. 'Everything all right at home?'

'Yeah.' It sounded pathetic to her own ears and she knew Inspector Gold didn't buy it for a second. Still, there was only so much intrusion Gina would countenance – luckily – and that seemed to be her limit.

'Right,' she said, 'then do what you should've done in the first place and send it up to CID. All right?'

Without waiting for a response, Gina stomped back to her own office. Before Sheelagh could shake herself back to work, Des walked in.

'Was she having a pop at you again?' he asked.

She rolled her eyes. 'Ah, Des, how did I get to this ripe old age without you looking out for me, eh? It's a total mystery to me.'

Looking sheepish, he disappeared along the corridor, though she had to admit the concern was nice. Sitting down at her desk, she wrote a quick email to Mickey detailing what she'd learned on the GBH case so far and adding that Inspector Gold had reassigned her. As she clicked 'send', she conceded that her reasons for trying to continue with the investigation in the first place were hardly altruistic. Yes, she felt responsible for being distracted while she was dealing with him the first time around, but it was as much to do with needing a focus for the shift that didn't involve sitting in the area car with Des attending shout after shout and suffering his comments in-between. At least with a specific case to focus on she'd been able to push him into investigating one strand while she managed another. Not that Inspector Gold had any clue about her motives – well, she certainly hoped not.

There was plenty of paperwork to catch up on and she focused on that until she heard over the radio that Des had arrested a suspect for the GBH she'd forgotten to officially pull him from, despite the inference of reassigning him to something else. Irritated, after giving him enough time to bring the fella in, she walked down to custody to have it out with him.

Unfortunately, it seemed Inspector Gold had beaten her to it. She waited until Gina stamped past her before she approached Des herself.

'Why didn't you tell me you were still working the GBH?' she demanded.

'Because you'd have told me to stop,' he replied with a shrug.

'That's right,' she said. 'And there's something else too,' she added, steering him back along the corridor.

'What's that?' he asked.

'I don't want my private life and the job being mixed up and I don't want you doing things for me just cos it's me,' she explained in a furious undertone.

He glanced sideways. 'So what do you want?'

'I don't feel comfortable with this, Des,' she answered, diverting away from his question. 'Not with us or what happened or how I feel.'

'So?' he pressed.

'So when it spills into my work or home I can't handle it,' she said as she walked into her office.

He hovered in the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face. 'Well, look, no spills,' he said, holding out his hand. 'Steady as a rock.'

It was the look on his face – she couldn't resist. 'I do need a bit of fun in my life though,' she said, drawn back to the door and pressing her hand against his chest with a smile.

'Right,' he said triumphantly. 'I know just the fella.'

Somehow giving in made her feel better, as though she'd spent the entire day skirting around the issue. To be fair, she had. She still didn't know how it would work, how she'd be able to justify it the next time they met or what lie she'd tell Patrick, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on her work for the next hour or so. The act of admitting that what she felt for Des hadn't disintegrated after one night had freed the portion of her brain she'd committed to denying it and she was finally able to be useful. She tried to harness the feeling while it lasted.

That was the only reason she was still at her desk when Gina halted in the doorway. Looking up, Sheelagh caught sight of her troubled face then the newspaper hanging limply from her arm.

'Have you seen this?' Gina questioned.

She shook her head. 'Is it the evening paper?'

Nodding, Gina dropped it on the desk in front of her and Sheelagh nearly reeled. There on page nine was a picture of Sam under a headline about her having the lovechild of child-murderer Ian McCarthy.

'You didn't know,' said Gina.

Sheelagh glanced up, her palms still pressed against the newsprint. 'Did you?'

Stepping inside the office, Gina nudged the door shut. 'Not from Samantha. I was told by the Super in strict confidence in case it turns into an operational issue.'

'Will it?' she asked.

'Splashed all over the papers?' Gina returned. 'The press'll be camped outside and that's just for it was just about her, I'd say she could weather it, but it's more complicated than that.'

Sheelagh's eyes had been drawn back to the paper and she was reading slowly, trying to absorb every word. The reporter was Dougie Pritchard, of course it was. She'd known there was something fishy about his interest in Sam when she'd given him that interview about Matt but she hadn't guessed it was anything as serious as this. Similarly, while she'd guessed that the strange man hanging around the station was probably Abigail's father, she could never have imagined the story behind it, the secret Sam had kept to herself all these years.

'What do you reckon?' Gina asked finally.

'I know Sam,' she said after a moment. 'She'll try and front it out.'

Nodding, Gina murmured, 'Yep. You can keep that,' she added, gesturing to the paper, 'I've had my fill.'

Sheelagh watched her leave then reread the article twice over. Ian McCarthy – they didn't reveal his new name for legal reasons – had met his ex and his daughter – they couldn't give her name for legal reasons – at a bar in town where he'd been attacked by the uncle of his victim. That smacked of a set-up by Pritchard and she could almost see the relish on his face as he orchestrated it.

That said, the poor boy's family had every reason to be distraught given the severity of Ian McCarthy's crime. It was one of those that lingered in the public consciousness, so that barely a teenager herself and in another country for her youth, Sheelagh had learned the details – by osmosis maybe. It was horrific, something that stuck with her despite all she'd seen as first a nurse then a copper. Finally, she began to understand Sam's turmoil and she couldn't fathom how either she or Abi were coping with this latest problem.

Thinking over that saw her all the way home and then she was distracted for much of the evening. Perhaps if she'd been completely with it she might've been plagued by guilt over Des as she knew she should've been, but Samantha's situation occupied her mind almost completely. Before she realised it, she was back on her way to work.

Gina had been right about one thing – the press were camped outside the station. Since Patrick insisted on dropping her off, she had to wade through the cameras and reporters yelling for some kind of statement on DI Nixon's indiscretion. It was reminiscent of them hounding Eva after Joanna's disappearance and it made Sheelagh's blood boil in a similar way. She ploughed through them, jamming her elbow into several ribcages by accident as she progressed into the front office.

After changing into her uniform, she went straight to her office and settled down to the endless stream of paperwork that seemed to materialise on her desk. It didn't surprise her when she heard giggling in the corridor in conjunction with Sam's name. Irritated, she rose and moved to the doorway. A few paces down were PCs Young and Harman, looking at a newspaper.

'Haven't you got anything better to do?' she demanded.

They exchanged a look and said in unison, 'Sorry, Sarge.'

She pointedly waited until they had moved on before she returned to her office, though she found it trickier to concentrate after that. More than ever, she wondered what was going on in Sam's head at the moment. She knew that CID had a big undercover operation going at a police warehouse with Ken Drummond in as a security guard. Keeping track of that was hard enough at the best of times, without throwing something like this into the mix. Sam would claim she was dealing with it, Sheelagh knew that much, but that didn't necessarily mean she was.

Not more than an hour later Gina Gold appeared in the doorway, more harried than usual. 'Abigail Nixon's being harassed by reporters at home. Samantha's asked me to send a car to collect her.'

Sheelagh immediately stood. 'May I?'

A smile flicked across Gina's face. 'I was hoping you would.'

Grabbing her hat, Sheelagh set off straight away, grateful to be going out through the yard and therefore not encountering that parasitic posse out front. The presence at Sam's house was less obvious but she knew they'd be around here somewhere. After parking up on the street she went straight up the path and knocked on the door heavily.

'It's Sergeant Murphy,' she called.

Abi had obviously been waiting near the door – it opened quickly, revealing her to be as pale as she'd been after that overdose a while ago. 'Sheelagh?' she murmured.

Wincing at her tone, Sheelagh reached forward and squeezed her arm. 'It's all right. I'll get you to the station, sweetheart. Come on – have you got your keys?'

On her nod, Sheelagh ushered her out of the door and took the keys when she couldn't manage the lock. Then she got her to the car, only seeing the familiar flash of a camera lens emerging from the alleyway that led to the back of the house as they drove down the road. Abi slumped in the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her stomach in a protective manner that obviously wasn't working to make her feel better.

'You didn't know, did you?' Abi questioned suddenly.

Sheelagh glanced over. 'Not until I read it in the paper, no.'

Abi didn't speak again until they were back at Sun Hill, sliding further down in her seat to avoid any probing looks from the journalists hovering around outside the yard. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Sheelagh guided her into the station, aware of the officers openly stopping to gawp. Sensing Abi's discomfort, she didn't take her straight up to CID but instead took her into her office and shut the door.

Picking up the phone, she dialled Sam's extension which, naturally, she knew without checking.

'Nixon?' was the curt answer.

'I've got Abigail in my office,' Sheelagh said without preamble. 'Perhaps you could –'

'I'll come down,' Sam cut in, voice altered.

When she placed the phone back into its cradle Sheelagh became aware of Abi's agitation. She was twisting her hands in knots, eyes darting around the small room.

'Abi,' she said gently, 'it's okay.'

'I always wanted to know who my father was,' she muttered, raising her tearful eyes. 'Glenn's my father. Except his name's not Glenn and... When I met him he was so nice. I don't understand,' she said, sinking into a chair and burying her head in her hands. 'He wants to be my dad.'

Sheelagh felt a shiver tickle her spine as she knelt in front of Abi. 'Listen, I won't pretend to understand what you're going through. It's unthinkable, all of it. But you've got to remember that your mum loves you so much.'

Abi snorted. 'She loves herself.'

'That's not true,' replied Sheelagh firmly. 'I know that you're the most important thing in her life.'

'Why are you defending her?' Abi demanded. 'She's lied to you as well.'

'I don't mind about that right now,' she said and, surprisingly, she meant it. 'I'm more concerned about you, both of you.'

Trying in vain to blink away her tears, Abi murmured, 'You care about her as much as she cares about you. But you don't know her.'

'Abi...' As the girl's tears finally overflowed, Sheelagh pulled her forward into a hug. 'I know she loves you,' she went on. 'You can get through this.'

Though she snickered, Abi didn't contradict her. Instead, she clung onto her for a few minutes, her tears eventually subsiding in time for the door to open. Then she stiffened and withdrew slowly. Sheelagh glanced up to find Sam in the doorway, a troubled expression on her already-exhausted face. Feeling her knees creak, Sheelagh stood up and fished a tissue out from the box on her desk before passing it to Abi. Sam watched all this with a frown, as though she didn't quite know on what footing any of them stood with each other.

Finally, she cleared her throat and looked to her daughter. 'How about we get a drink in the canteen, sweetheart?'

After wiping her eyes, Abi stood and shrugged. 'Okay.'

Sam attempted a smile then shifted her attention to Sheelagh. Although she opened her mouth, no words came out. Shaking her head, Sheelagh swung her arm in the vague direction of the canteen, giving Sam permission to leave without trying to explain herself.

Abi glanced between them then said, 'Thank you, Sheelagh.'

'No problem,' she replied, eyes fixed on Sam. 'You know where I am.'

Sam held her gaze for another moment then ushered her daughter out of the office. 'Come on, Abi.'

Sheelagh watched them go then sank into her own chair. Reminding herself that it was still before lunchtime and the rest of the day could have anything in store didn't exactly relax her. In Sun Hill it seemed to take a matter of minutes for something to go disastrously wrong and heap more misery on them all.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Another chapter for you all. Fair warning, the length of these chapters will vary dramatically. There are some lengthy ones coming up, depending on what the story demands. Don't yell at me!

* * *

Sam hardly needed anyone else to tell her how badly she'd screwed up, both personally and professionally. When she arrived at the shooting scene and saw two dead bodies and Ken Drummond being carted off with a bullet in his shoulder she blamed herself for taking her foot off the gas. She'd been distracted, just like everyone said she was, even if much of this case was unexplained. Her instinct was still to go on the offensive though. She tried to take charge of the carnage alongside Gina but after Superintendent Okaro called and demanded to know what had happened she was even snippy with one of her best allies. Everything was slipping away from her and she headed back to the station to hold a briefing wondering how the hell she was going to get through this day. At least Abi was at home, safe and hopefully a little more content than she had been in recent days. It was the one consolation she had right now.

Back at Sun Hill, she made a beeline for the bathroom. If she was to lead a briefing with the likes of Debbie McAllister smugly watching her she needed to at least look like she was in control of herself, if not the situation as a whole. Walking along the corridor, though, she saw Sheelagh coming in the opposite direction half-reading a file and slowed her step. The bridges she had to mend there might not be as urgent as the shooting of a colleague but it was something tangible she could do and she still had – she checked her watch – ten minutes before she had to be upstairs. After Sheelagh's help bringing Abi in this morning and that bizarre moment the three of them had shared in the Sergeants' Office she had to believe her apology wouldn't be in vain.

Sheelagh hadn't seen her yet and would've walked straight past had Sam not tentatively held out a hand. Instantly alert, Sheelagh glanced up, guarded at first before a worried smile slipped onto her face. It was as though the last few days had never happened, that the moment when Sheelagh leaned forward and kissed her cheek as a thank you for berating Debbie's strong-arm tactics had been only an hour ago. With that compassionate expression on Sheelagh's face, she could believe an apology wasn't necessary, that things were as they had been before. But that wasn't the point.

'How's Ken?' Sheelagh questioned after a moment of silence.

'Gary's gone with him to the hospital,' Sam replied. 'We're lucky it wasn't worse. Two dead men on that service road and Ken could've easily joined them. It doesn't bear thinking about.'

'Then don't,' advised Sheelagh, that same old wise kindness in her eyes.

'Yeah,' she murmured then she gestured towards the bathroom. 'Have you got a minute?'

Nodding, Sheelagh followed her through the door. Thankfully, there was no one else around and Sam was able to take a few seconds to gather herself together. She felt rather than saw Sheelagh avert her gaze and appreciated her all the more in that instant.

'I'm sorry,' Sam managed finally, raising her eyes hesitantly. 'I was scared. That's what it comes down to – I was scared. When I thought of telling you, I couldn't picture myself doing it.'

Sheelagh's forehead was furrowed. 'Why?'

'I thought you might hate me for it,' she admitted with a chuckle. Then, when Sheelagh opened her mouth to argue, she hastily went on, 'Let me finish. I was trying to stay in control, yeah. I know that was a big part of it. Telling people meant it was real, it was happening. I didn't want to face it but you were right. You're my friend. You're a good friend,' she added with a smile, 'someone I value deeply. And I didn't want to screw it up. I didn't want to disappoint you.'

'I'd ask how you could think that,' Sheelagh murmured, 'but it's you. You're capable of anything.'

Leaning back against the sink, Sam massaged her stinging eyes. 'I've got to lead a briefing in five minutes.'

'We don't have to do this now,' said Sheelagh.

'I'm ashamed,' Sam continued. 'Not of Abi, never of her. I'm ashamed of me and all the decisions I made to get us to this point. I didn't know who he was,' she said quickly, blinking away a tear.

Sheelagh stretched out a hand to her shoulder, rubbing little circles through her jacket. 'You really thought I'd think that?'

'No,' she said, 'not really. But I haven't got the best track record. I'm a damn good copper, Sheelagh, but I'm not a good parent and I'm not a good friend.'

Stepping closer, Sheelagh reclined against the sink but left her hand where it was as she said, 'You're wrong about that, you know. Well, you're wrong about lots of things, but you're perfectly capable of being a good friend. Being in Spain and still caring enough to want to interfere on my behalf with Debbie McAllister? That was being a good friend, Sam. Then you pulled back when all this kicked off. I didn't understand it then but I'm starting to.'

Sam glanced sideways, aware of Sheelagh's hand on her shoulder, drawing strength from it almost. 'If you'll give me a chance, let me buy you a drink one day, I'll tell you everything. I've screwed up so many times in the past few months. I've hurt Abi and I've hurt you by trying to control the situation. I'm sorry,' she concluded with a wry smile.

Sheelagh sighed and finally let her hand fall. 'I hoped you'd be a little more defensive and equivocal then I could stay mad at you.'

The words sank in slowly and Sam felt herself relax – properly relax – for the first time since that morning in her office. 'Thank you.'

She waved that away then crossed the bathroom and tugged a paper towel free. Moistening it with water while Sam watched on, she said, 'Hold still. You're in danger of being mistaken for a panda.'

Chuckling, Sam tried to keep herself from wavering on the spot, though she wasn't sure she was doing a very good job. While she dabbed at her cheeks Sheelagh's breath tickled her chin and sent a shiver along her spine. The intimacy of the moment when, really, she should've lost Sheelagh's friendship thanks to her behaviour, felt bizarre, especially following on from the morning she'd had with Abi.

Sheelagh drew back, dropping the towel into the bin. 'There,' she said with a touch of pride.

Sam didn't even bother to check how she looked. She trusted Sheelagh completely right now and she was reminded irresistibly of the first time she'd critically examined her in this very space in a bid to put her back together so she could focus on the Joanna Sharpe investigation. It was as though they'd come full circle, only now Sam felt that the loss of Sheelagh's friendship would be unbearable.

'Thank you,' she repeated.

'Go to your briefing,' Sheelagh said softly. 'And, don't worry, I'll hold you to that drink.'

After inhaling deeply, she spared one last look for Sheelagh then swept out of the bathroom. She felt much more human, more herself than she had since Dougie Pritchard had left that message on her voicemail demanding a meeting. It was like emerging from quicksand to find that you hadn't smothered in it after all. With a new air of determination, she climbed the stairs up to CID.

Throwing herself into the briefing was one way of getting her head back in the game. It was a way of proving that none of this mess had affected her ability to do her job. However, she was startled to be pulled from leading it by Jack but the expression on Gina's face told her not to bother arguing. Then she had to endure looks from Debbie and Juliet as the briefing progressed before being summoned to Adam's office at the end. Though she attempted to defend her handling of the case, he wasn't having any of it and he ordered her to take that leave he'd been threatening her with since everything kicked off. Battling tears, she complied and returned to her own office where Jack was waiting for her. In the absence of being able to take her irritation out on the Super, she questioned the DCI's lack of support for her.

'Why do I get the feeling I'm a convenient scapegoat?' she questioned.

'Oh, come on, Samantha, that's rubbish,' Jack replied.

'I'll tell you what's rubbish,' she retorted. 'I love my job. I did the hardest thing I've ever done in my life today. I told my daughter I loved her so much I'd resign for her. I even took a letter of resignation to you. And I would've gone through with it if Abigail had let me.'

To her dismay, she felt fresh tears crowd her eyes and she covered her face. When Jack rounded the desk, she forced herself to look at him.

'You are one of the best DIs that I have ever had,' he said with utter sincerity. 'There's no way I would've accepted your resignation. Just do as the Super says, eh? You and Abigail, take a break. And I'll see you back here in a couple of weeks giving it a hundred and fifty percent.'

Watching him return to the door, she muttered, 'Better bow down gracefully then.'

'Right,' he agreed.

'Good luck with the case,' she said, though the words tried to stick in her throat.

He left and she gathered her things together. Really, since her holiday it didn't seem as though she'd settled back into her office. Maybe it was just that she felt she was sliding from one collision to another, unable to focus either on her professional duties or her personal problems entirely.

If she was getting out of here, better to do it quickly. She picked up a sheaf of files from her desk, grabbed her bag and walked into the main office, pointedly saying goodbye to Debbie and Juliet on the way. At least she'd give them some gossip, though hopefully they'd be too busy trying to find the scum who'd shot Ken Drummond to pay much attention to her abrupt departure.

This time when she dropped by the bathroom it was from genuine need. She left the files balanced on the sinks though when she washed her hands and straightened her jacket a few minutes later she dislodged them. She managed to scoop a handful into her arms then the whole lot went flying.

'Damn,' she muttered. Just as she was kneeling to collect them, the door opened.

'My sources obviously aren't as accurate as I thought,' Sheelagh said.

'I'm sorry, Sheelagh?' Sam asked as her friend kneeled down to help her.

'I heard you were given some holiday,' she explained. 'This looks suspiciously like work to me.'

As they both stood, Sam turned back to lean against the sink with them clutched to her chest. 'Yeah, well, I'm probably gonna be climbing the walls after about five minutes,' she said.

Sheelagh gazed at her steadily. 'Don't let Abigail hear you say that. She'll just be very pleased to have her mum all to herself.'

'Mmm,' she murmured with a saccharine smile. 'For a change.'

'I thought that's why the Super gave you the time off,' Sheelagh replied. 'You know, forget about this place, spend some time with your daughter.'

'Yeah... ' Sam thought about it for a moment then added, 'That was very _nice_ of him, wasn't it?'

Turning back to the sink, she balanced the files on the edge, a little more expertly this time. Sheelagh leaned on the unit beside her, a growing smile on her face.

'Apparently not,' she commented.

Sam rotated to face her. 'I don't think Abigail's welfare was the motivating factor,' she answered. 'He thinks I'm unable to juggle my family problems with my career.'

'It's not easy to balance the two at the best of times,' Sheelagh said.

'Oh, come on, Sheelagh,' Sam pressed. 'Look around you. The majority of coppers are men. They manage to have jobs and kids, plenty of them have got more stripes than either of us. Is their ability to cope questioned when things go a little bit wrong?' she asked.

Sheelagh tilted her head to the side. 'I suppose not.'

'Their idea of a career woman is someone that has absolutely no life whatsoever outside the job,' Sam went on. 'And, no disrespect, but I don't wanna be Gina Gold.' As Sheelagh chuckled, they both leaned back against the sinks. 'I wanna have it all,' Sam said firmly. 'And I don't see why I shouldn't get it just because I'm a female.'

'Don't you think that sounds a bit selfish?' Sheelagh questioned tentatively.

'Well, do you think the Super's selfish? DCI Meadows?' Pausing, she watched her friend absorb the words. Finally, she went on, 'Try having it all, Sheelagh. Put yourself first for a change. You never know, you might enjoy it.'

Grabbing her files, she turned to the door. She suddenly knew if she didn't get out of Sun Hill in the next few minutes her resolve would crumble and she'd end up hammering on Superintendent Okaro's door demanding to be allowed back to work.

It was only when she reached the yard that she wondered what her feminist speech back there might've talked Sheelagh into – and by then it was too late to go back and sand down the prickly edges.

* * *

Jack sent her a text to let her know that Ken was recovering and that the case had been solved. While she was grateful for the update, it only served to remind her that she was shut out of Sun Hill for two weeks. She tried to distract herself by cleaning the house, though that only worked for so long. She wasn't entirely surprised when Abi elected to go back to school at the earliest opportunity. Despite the fact they had cleared the air, it was too much to ask to spend hours cooped up together. Abi was showing signs of getting back to normal, of being the mature teenager she'd been before curiosity about her father had taken over. Sam wanted to encourage that while letting her know it was okay to be upset – it was a strange tightrope to walk and she was expecting to fall off it any minute.

A few mornings later she was sat in the kitchen reading the paper with the sun streaming through the window. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she felt almost relaxed. When she was shaken from her peace by a knock at the door she contemplated pretending she was out but curiosity got the better of her. When she opened it to find Sheelagh on the doorstep she was grateful for her nosiness. It looked as though she'd just come off-shift but there was more than fatigue visible in her face. Sam realised with a jolt that it wasn't her copper's instinct telling her that – it was their friendship that allowed her that little insight.

'What are you doing here?' she asked.

Sheelagh swallowed and offered, 'Putting myself first? I'm sorry, I just didn't want to go home.'

Opening the door wider, Sam replied, 'Don't apologise. Bit early for a bottle of wine but I can offer you a coffee.'

'Thanks,' Sheelagh said with a tired smile as she stepped over the threshold.

Sam closed the door and gestured towards the kitchen. 'Come on, come through.'

Sheelagh sat at the table and waited until the kettle was boiling before she asked, 'Is Abi back at school?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'We've had a few wobbles but she's doing a lot better. Can I tempt you with a biscuit or something else?'

'Chocolate?' suggested Sheelagh hopefully.

Chuckling, Sam pulled open the drawer beside the cooker and withdrew a bar of Galaxy. She slid it across the table then finished making the coffees as Sheelagh broke into the wrapping. When she sat down with the cups warming her hands she was comfortable enough with the silence but she could see the combination of anxiety and intrigue in Sheelagh's eyes. She didn't know she could do much about the former but she could assuage the latter.

After clearing her throat, she said, 'I wrote a letter of resignation. On the day Ken was shot.'

Sheelagh's head snapped up. 'What?'

'Don't worry,' she went on, seeing the question on her lips, 'Abi ripped it up. I would've handed it in though. I actually took it to Jack but he was too busy to read it. Funny how things turn out.'

'Do you want to leave Sun Hill?' asked Sheelagh softly.

'No,' she answered. 'I love the job, yeah, but it's more than that. I can't picture myself working somewhere else, with other people. I tried, I really did. I was willing to do it anyway. And that finally convinced Abi.'

Watching her, Sheelagh pressed, 'Convinced her of what?'

Sam inhaled deeply, aware that saying this out loud was like turning your eyes up to an eclipse. 'That I love her more than I love anything else,' she said eventually. 'She didn't know that. She couldn't be sure.'

'Oh, Sam...' Sheelagh reached out and covered her hand with her own.

Feeling the tears building, Sam tried desperately to swallow them down. 'I can't blame her, you know? This whole thing's been one big mess. I haven't done much in the way of proving that I love her.'

'Then why could I see it, hmm?' returned Sheelagh, squeezing her hand. 'That same morning – when I brought Abi to the station? I told her then that she was the most important thing in your life.'

Sam couldn't help but stare at her. 'Sheelagh,' she said after a minute, 'I lied to you. I lied to her. That isn't love, is it?'

Sheelagh held her gaze. 'Talk me through it. Explain, like you said you would.'

'Why?' Sam murmured.

'Because I've just got off a long shift and I could do with being right about something for a change.'

Filing that nugget of information away, Sam stretched across the table for the open bar of chocolate. She broke a bit off then slowly ate it while Sheelagh diplomatically focused on her coffee. That was one thing she appreciated about Sheelagh, and she suspected it was a formidable weapon with suspects and victims alike. It struck her now that she hadn't seen her in action that much, and yet, along with Gina, she was one of the only coppers at Sun Hill whose professional judgement she trusted implicitly.

'I loved him,' she said finally. 'At least, I thought I did. I mean, it wasn't real. You can't love somebody you don't know, can you? Maybe that's the problem with Abi and me. Anyway,' she went on, 'he didn't want kids and when I got pregnant it was a complete accident. He told me then, he said he didn't trust himself and he told me who he was.' Burying her head in her hands, she muttered, 'I can still remember the look on his face. I thought it was a joke at first, but I knew it wasn't because there'd always been something he was holding back. Everything made sense all of a sudden.'

'It's okay.' Sheelagh's hand caught on her arm and Sam raised her head again, grateful for the sympathy she saw in her face.

'It's not though, is it?' she returned gently. 'I told him I'd had an abortion and then I took myself off. As far as I was concerned, he had no rights over Abi. He'd lied to me. I hated him for that as much as for what he'd done.'

'Did you seriously contemplate an abortion?' questioned Sheelagh.

Sam shook her head. 'I didn't know it until I got pregnant but I really wanted to be a mum. You know, I was worried she'd look like him or remind me of him in some way but it didn't work out like that. It was like looking in a mirror sometimes. When I used to pick her up from the childminder,' she continued with a small grin, 'they'd tell me if she'd had a 'headstrong' day or not.'

Sheelagh barely contained her snort. 'I see.'

'I knew then there was nothing of him in her. She's all me, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, you've got your good points,' said Sheelagh. 'But you are headstrong, I'd agree with that.'

Sipping her coffee, Sam watched as Sheelagh popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. Then she rested back in her seat and said, 'For years it worked, just me and Abi. We were okay until she decided she needed to know who her father was. I handled it badly – terribly. I know that. The way I saw it, if I ignored it then it'd go away. I closed myself off from her, from you, from everyone. I convinced myself I had to or I'd crack and if I cracked... Sheelagh, it wasn't because I knew what this would do to me. How could I tell my daughter she's the child of a murderer, especially one who did what he did? It shouldn't be her burden.'

'No,' Sheelagh agreed, 'but you can't protect them forever. It was natural for her to want to know and natural for you to want to protect her. There's nothing wrong with that, Sam. How's she coping with it?'

'He's keeping his distance,' Sam replied, running her finger around her cup. 'He'll keep in contact but he knows he can't be a proper part of her life with the circus that'd entail. It's about the one positive thing I can say about this mess.'

'You not resigning is fairly positive,' commented Sheelagh.

Sam chuckled. 'Okay, you're right there. The thing was, Sheelagh, she got angry after Glenn told her he was going to stay away. She pushed me against the wall. It didn't hurt, there was nothing to it. But it scared her. It's always going to be at the back of her mind now. That's what I didn't want.'

'You'll work through it together. If there's nothing between you now, it'll be better. Not easy,' she added, 'but better. I do have a question though,' she added, tilting her head to the side.

'Go on,' Sam said carefully.

'That night when I picked you up from the hospital after Abi's overdose,' Sheelagh said. 'You said I'd hate you because you'd done something terrible. What was that?'

Sighing, Sam pushed her coffee away. 'I knew I had to tell Abi something. I saw what lengths she'd go to in order to get answers from me so I – I lied to her. That night I told her she was the product of a one-night stand. She knew Glenn's name, you see. She'd picked it up from old letters. I didn't know it at the time,' she continued, 'but she'd passed those letters onto Matt Boyden. Who, in case you were wondering, was an old mate of Dougie Pritchard's.'

'That explains that one,' Sheelagh said. 'I did wonder how it all came out.'

'I've got a lot to hate Matt Boyden for,' Sam replied, shaking her head. 'You're such a good person, Sheelagh, that I thought everything I'd done would just...horrify you. Having a child by a murderer, not telling him that I was pregnant, lying to Abi... It added up and I hated the look of it. At the time I couldn't risk losing your friendship. I was fragile enough without losing you to boot.'

With a smile, Sheelagh answered, 'You said 'maybe someday'. Did you mean that or was it just to keep me quiet?'

'I meant it,' she said firmly. 'I do trust you, Sheelagh. There's never been a question of that. Only how open I can be.'

'Well, you're doing okay,' said Sheelagh, reaching over and touching her arm.

Sam met her eye. 'I'll bear that in mind.'

'I was hurt, that's all,' went on Sheelagh after a moment. 'Since I got to Sun Hill we've had this weird connection, haven't we? Sometimes without you to talk to I think I'd go mad.'

'Me too,' she admitted with shrug.

Draining her coffee, Sheelagh took another piece of chocolate then slid the bar over to Sam. They quietly ate for a minute or so, the silence comfortable. Discreetly, Sam studied her friend, wondering why she didn't want to go home and what had happened in the few days she'd been away from Sun Hill. Was it something to do with Des? Really, what else could it be? Even so, though her curiosity was high, she wouldn't succumb to it. She had no right to be demanding secrets from Sheelagh under the circumstances. It was enough that, not wanting to come home, she'd come here instead.

'What you said the other day,' Sheelagh said abruptly, 'about having it all. Does that include a man?'

'It hasn't really cropped up,' Sam replied honestly. 'Whether that's because I haven't let it or not is up for debate, I suppose. It's always been casual. Abi and the job – that's all I ever really wanted.'

'But could you let someone in?' pressed Sheelagh gently.

Thinking about it for a few seconds, Sam nodded. 'The right person. But it won't happen, Sheelagh, trust me on that.'

Although she looked unconvinced, she let it slide. She stood, stretching out her muscles and wincing. 'I should go. It's been a long night. Thanks for the drink.'

'Anytime,' Sam said, rising. 'And, no, I'm not being polite. I'm going out of my mind here.'

Sheelagh laughed as she headed to the door. Sam followed her and pulled it open, watching her over the threshold with a degree of sadness.

'You'll give Abigail my love, won't you?' Sheelagh asked.

'I will,' she promised. Then, before Sheelagh could move, she hesitantly stepped forward and pulled her into an awkward hug. When she withdrew she was embarrassed and cleared her throat. 'Bye,' she said.

Sheelagh smiled again and turned to go looking, Sam had to say, much happier than when she'd arrived. As she closed the door, she wondered what had happened to her over the last few months – she missed Sheelagh's presence almost as soon as the door clicked shut.

* * *

The days melded into one. Abi floated in and out, battered in some respects but otherwise much more herself. Sam recognised the traits from her own personality – now she knew the truth Abi was stubbornly saying it wouldn't affect her life. It was a better response than Sam could've hoped for but sometimes she didn't dare believe it.

For her own part, she spent the days bored rigid and the evenings trying to persuade Abi to spend time with her. Though she complained about it, she got the feeling that Abi appreciated being asked and, really, sort of enjoyed it. As bizarre as it sounded, they were closer than they'd been before, even if it had taken some sort of earthquake to get them to this point.

In her free hours – of which they were many at the moment – she found her mind slipping back to Sheelagh. She wondered whether the troubles that had driven her to this door had disappeared with time or whether they were worse than ever. She also, of course, speculated on what on earth those troubles were. What has Des done? Or, as an unwelcome voice kept asking, what had Sheelagh done with Des? It was a creeping thought, but one that refused to let her alone.

She wasn't entirely surprised then when, a few days before she was due to return to Sun Hill, the doorbell rang and she found Sheelagh on her step again. Although she was dressed up in a nice blouse, she looked upset, Sam realised, and the observation brought out the caring instinct she usually reserved for Abi.

'Tea or coffee?' she asked, ushering her into the house.

'I don't want to intrude,' Sheelagh muttered.

Sam snorted as she urged her into the kitchen. 'Intrude? This is the most excitement I've had all week.'

Seeming to relax a little, Sheelagh replied, 'Tea then.'

'Sit down,' she said as she filled the kettle.

'Is Abi here?' questioned Sheelagh.

'She's at a friend's,' Sam replied. 'She'll be home in a while.' Going to the drawer, she pulled out a bar of chocolate and passed it to Sheelagh. 'Here, take this away from me. I've done really well leaving it alone.'

With a tired smile, Sheelagh cracked it open. By the time the tea was ready she'd demolished most of it but left one piece in front of Sam's place. After putting the cups down, she popped it into her mouth and pretended not to notice that Sheelagh was nearly in tears. By degrees, she gathered herself together while Sam lolled back in her chair and feigned ignorance.

'I'm sorry for turning up like this,' Sheelagh said finally.

Sam rolled her shoulders. 'Careful. I might just hold you hostage.'

'It's not kidnap if I agree, is it?' returned Sheelagh.

'True,' she admitted. 'Are you any good at crosswords?'

'Crosswords?' Sheelagh repeated with a dubious look.

'That's how bored I've been,' Sam said, reaching across for the folded paper and nudging it over the table. 'Six across and nine down.'

Though she glanced at them, Sam could see her heart wasn't in it. For a few minutes they sipped their tea in silence then Sheelagh murmured, 'It was my wedding anniversary yesterday.'

'How many years?' Sam questioned.

'Twenty three,' answered Sheelagh.

Noticing the unease in her face, Sam feigned joviality. 'Congratulations. Did you do anything nice?'

'Patrick surprised me at the station,' Sheelagh said, her cheeks whitening further. 'He'd hired a limo, had the kids waiting at a restaurant and everything. It was lovely of him.'

Sam noticed the addition of the last two words but said nothing. She was a copper, after all, and her job was detection. She had the sinking feeling that Sheelagh's attitude came from some sort of dalliance with Des, guilt naturally exacerbated by Patrick's romantic gesture on their anniversary. How far the thing with Des had gone was still up for debate though. It might just be the prospect of it that was sending Sheelagh into a tailspin.

'I hope it was a good meal after all that effort,' Sam remarked eventually.

Sheelagh lifted her head, perhaps recognising the diversion for what it was. She gave a sort of half-smile then took another gulp of tea. 'Are you looking forward to getting back to work?'

'Only a lot,' she replied. 'I think I've cleaned more in the last week than the last year. I can't say I'm any better at it. Cleaning and cooking – not two of my strong points. If I ever offer to cook you a meal, run in the opposite direction. I won't be offended.'

'I'll remember that,' Sheelagh said.

Sam was at a loss for what to say next so elected to say nothing. With anyone else the silence would drag but not Sheelagh. They sat there for so long that the front door opened and startled them both. Though Sheelagh stiffened she seemed to be grateful for the interruption.

'Mum?' Abi called. 'Are you here?'

'Kitchen,' she shouted back.

Abi swept into the room still in her uniform, though her tie was missing and her hair was loose around her shoulders. She stopped short as she caught sight of Sheelagh. 'Sorry, am I interrupting?'

Chuckling, Sheelagh replied, 'You're the one who lives here, not me. How are you?'

'Good, thanks. Listen, I'll leave you –'

'There's no need for that,' interrupted Sheelagh. 'Why don't you join us?'

When her daughter glanced hesitantly to her, Sam gestured to one of the free chairs. 'If you want to. I know you're sick of talking to me and Sheelagh's a better listener.'

To her amusement, the two of them exchanged a nod before Abi sat down and asked, 'Did she call you desperate for station gossip?'

'No, no,' Sheelagh said, 'she's been very good.'

'Oi,' Sam murmured with a grin, 'I am still here, you know.'

'You're not exactly easy to miss, Mum,' Abi pointed out.

'Okay, if you're ganging up on me, I need to get some washing from upstairs.'

It was a pretext and both of them knew it but they let her go without another word. Of course, she was half-tempted to stay and eavedrop but this wasn't a case and she owed Abi and Sheelagh trust and privacy. So she climbed the stairs and spent ten minutes pottering around her bedroom and allowing her mind to wander with speculation about Sheelagh and Des. It wasn't nosiness when you genuinely cared – or at least that's what she was telling herself.

Something had happened to bring Sheelagh to her door today. You didn't work a long shift then arrive on someone's doorstep for no discernible reason. She didn't flatter herself that her company was riveting enough for Sheelagh to seek it out, though perhaps that had happened in the past. Then again, that was always at the nick. Having Sheelagh in her home felt different somehow. It told her that the rift between them was beginning to heal, though the prospect of this different stage of friendship frightened her a bit.

Sitting down on the bed, she smoothed out the covers. If Sheelagh had allowed things to go too far with Des then it was a dangerous game. Sam could hardly criticise dubious romantic choices, though at least Des was a police officer and not a murderer. There was a definite spark between the pair of them, she'd seen that with her own eyes. Perhaps something like that overtook you whether you liked it or not.

After all, when she'd visited Glenn at the hospital she'd experienced...something herself. At the time she wasn't sure what it was, whether it might've been the remnants of the love she once felt for him. Now, though, she'd talked herself away from that. It hadn't been a spark of love or affection, more like a twinge of bemusement that they'd got to this point. She didn't love Glenn anymore. It was as she'd said to Sheelagh the other day – how could you love someone you didn't know?

'Mum?' Abi's voice startled her. 'Are you okay?'

It took her a few seconds to focus on her daughter then she stood up and tried to clear her face. 'Course,' she said. 'What's up?'

After studying her shrewdly, Abi answered, 'Sheelagh's got to get going.'

Sam nodded and followed her down the stairs. Sheelagh was waiting by the door, looking tired but again more relaxed and happier than she had when she'd arrived. Abi stepped forward and gave Sheelagh a big hug before stepping back to the stairs and, to Sam's surprise, linking their arms together. Seeing that, Sheelagh's lips twitched but she didn't draw attention to it.

'I'll see you in a few days,' Sam said.

'Yeah,' Sheelagh replied. 'Have you heard anything from the station?'

'Not much,' she said. 'Gina sent me a text the other day but that's all.'

Something flickered across Sheelagh's face, too rapidly to be positively identified. 'It'll be good to have you back.'

Sam smiled, though her mind was running over the possible reasons behind a reaction like that to Gina's name. It was a mystery that would have to wait until she was back at Sun Hill, she realised, as Sheelagh reached for the door handle and murmured a goodbye before slipping out of the house.

Shaking herself, Sam turned to Abi. 'Do I even want to ask what you two were talking about?'

'Probably not,' Abi answered. 'I've got some homework, okay?'

'Okay,' Sam echoed.

She watched her up the stairs with a small grin then returned to the kitchen. The mugs on the side were the only sign that Sheelagh had been there. Sighing, Sam sat down then her eyes caught on the crossword still in the middle of the table – Sheelagh had solved both clues in her absence and drawn a smiley face at the bottom of the page. It was enough to make her chuckle again.

* * *

The prospect of returning to work rejuvenated her over the next few days. There was a renewed bounce in her step, though the night before she was due to go back she was hit by a few nerves. Sitting in front of the television with a cup of cooling tea in her hands, she was jolted from her thoughts by Abi sitting abruptly beside her on the sofa.

'You're worried about going back,' she said.

Sam glanced to her and smiled. 'Yeah,' she admitted, 'a little.'

'People stop talking after a few days,' Abi replied. 'We're not that interesting.

'Kids are different, sweetheart,' she said. 'People at the nick have got long memories. They'll just be waiting for a chance to throw it back in my face. I'm sorry,' she went on quickly, 'I know this has been worse for you than me. I know this is all my fault.'

Abi put a hand on her arm. 'It's okay.'

'It's not,' she returned, 'but thanks for saying it.'

'At least you've got someone on your side at work,' Abi commented after a minute of silence.

This time Sam's smile was genuine. 'Yeah,' she murmured. 'I'm lucky.'

Although she clearly had better things to do, Abi sat with her for an hour, watching some junk on the television and persuading her that two helpings of strawberry ice cream wasn't a bad idea. For a while Sam forgot her anxiety and enjoyed the mother/daughter time, only pausing to marvel once every so often that they'd got back to this point. It was almost like the time they'd spent together before Abi's curiosity about her father had kicked in, except this time there were no secrets hovering between them.

The next morning, her instinct was to put on her game face and front it out. She dropped Abi at school on her way in then strode up to CID without sparing a glance for Robbie Cryer on the front desk or the uniformed officers crowding reception. If there was one thing Sam prided herself on it was her ability to at least look as though nothing was touching her. Not many people could see through that. Gina could to an extent and so could Eva, but there was only one person who saw through it consistently and without malice. More than once in the past few months Sheelagh had helped her put the mask back on – it stood to reason she knew what went into it.

Walking into CID, she immediately detected the stir in the room. Nevertheless, she ignored it, nodding at colleagues she passed on her way into her office. She felt much more secure when she'd deposited her bag beside her desk and pressed the button to boot up her computer. This was her office and she was determined to feel – or at least act – comfortable in it. As she was removing her coat there was a knock on the open door.

'Morning, Guv,' Eva said.

Turning around, she smiled. 'Hiya.'

'Glad to be back?' questioned Eva.

Sam discreetly gestured out to the open-plan office. 'It depends.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Eva said, 'Well, you just focus on the job and you'll be fine, Guv. How's Abigail?'

'Better,' she answered. 'Listen, Eva,' she went on a little more seriously, 'I don't know if I thanked you properly. You were there for me, even when I was throwing it back in your face.'

'You've done the same thing for me,' Eva replied.

Before she could respond to that, Gina appeared, edging into the office. Eva took the hint, not saying another word and instead slipping back to her desk with a smile. Gina pushed the door closed then leaned against it.

'Welcome back to the madhouse,' she said. 'Everything back to normal?'

'As normal as it's going to get,' Sam returned, sinking into her familiar chair. 'Sit down.'

'Sorry I didn't call while you were off,' Gina said as she did. 'You know how it is around here at the best of times.'

'Course,' she answered. Then, carefully, she went on, 'Anyway, I had a couple of visits from Sheelagh to keep me occupied.'

'Oh, yes?' Gina's trademark poker face was on, feigning disinterest, but Sam could see the same reaction to the name as she'd spotted with Sheelagh the week before.

'Seemed a little off-colour,' Sam persisted. 'Upset even.'

'When was this?' questioned Gina.

'A few days after I took leave then the end of last week.' She watched Gina intently, playing the same roundabout game her colleague was and enjoying flexing her interrogation muscles a little. 'Have I missed something?' she asked.

'What did she say?' Gina shot back.

'Nothing,' Sam conceded. 'But I am a detective, you know.'

'And as you also know,' said Gina, 'I can't go discussing my relief with no justifiable cause.'

'Course not,' Sam returned, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. 'I wouldn't expect you to. But, for the sake of argument, let's just suppose I know which way the wind's been blowing.'

'And do you?' Gina questioned, her tone indecipherable even to Sam's seasoned ears. For a moment it made her doubt what she knew about Sheelagh and Des but, she reasoned, she'd seen enough to draw fairly solid conclusions. This could just be the inspector's way of checking whether she actually knew what was going on or whether she was bluffing.

'Could be,' Sam said after a moment, 'that Sheelagh's still shaken up by all that business with Patrick's cab. Being taken hostage by someone like that takes its toll on you.'

'As you well know,' Gina retorted, though she relaxed into her seat as she realised they were on the same track after all.

'How far has it gone?' Sam asked finally.

'Your guess is as good as mine.'

'You've spoken to her,' she said.

Gina inclined her head. 'At the end of last week.'

For a few seconds the fact that Sheelagh had sought her out following such a conversation with Gina struck Sam dumb, especially considering their difficulties lately. Then a smile drifted onto her face.

'What's that look for?' Gina queried.

Sam cleared her throat. 'Did you just come in here to gossip?'

Mock-affronted, Gina rose. 'The Super wants you on a GBH inquiry. But you'd better tread carefully,' she added. 'It's a fella from the CPS he's had dealings with in the past. It could get messy.'

'What did I do to deserve that one?' Sam questioned. 'Or don't I need to ask?'

'You'll be right,' said Gina. 'Jump through the hoops, prove nothing's changed.' She paused. 'Nothing has changed, I take it?'

At a bit of a loss, Sam stared at her. 'Like what?'

'Nothing, nothing.' Gina managed a wan smile then reached for the door handle. 'Good luck.'

Left alone, Sam only allowed herself a minute to wonder what Gina's cryptic demeanour meant then she grabbed Eva and set out to investigate the GBH. It was good to be back, whatever anyone else might be saying about her.


	9. Chapter 9

A few days off work allowed Sheelagh to immerse herself in the routine of home life. On the one hand, she appreciated it as a timely reminder of what she'd been risking by carrying on with Des. On the other, she wished she was swept up in a case at work, unable to stop and think and then too exhausted by the time she got home to do anything other than collapse in a heap. Sun Hill was safe at the moment after all. Des had taken emergency leave after their little altercation about him choosing his mates over her, appearing more cowardly than she had previously given him credit for. It was very much a case of having his fun then running away from it. The moment she'd realised that she'd felt crushed in two and the most natural place for her to turn to had been Samantha.

Turning up on her doorstep not once but twice while she'd been on leave wasn't something Sheelagh had expected to do. In fact, part of her felt rotten about doing it, but her feet had turned her in that direction, first when she'd discovered that Des had been bragging to Reg about sleeping with a married woman and then when he'd driven past her to spend time at the pub with his mates and Honey Harman.

Truth be told, her visits to that house had been the bright spots in the last few weeks of troubles. She appreciated the level of trust Sam had finally shown in her, explaining all about Glenn and why her instincts had been to try and keep the situation under control. That impulse in Samantha Nixon was probably her prevailing feature and, Sheelagh suspected, it was going to keep getting her into trouble. Even so, her motives in this case were fairly noble, if misguided. To think you could keep something like that under wraps forever was optimistic, especially when Abigail was indeed as headstrong as her mother. Equally, Sheelagh couldn't fathom how Sam had kept her secret for so many years. It explained quite a lot about how she held herself apart from other people and why she continually tried to erect barriers between herself and everyone else. Somehow, though, Sheelagh had infiltrated those walls and Sam's genuine remorse at keeping her in the dark had been welcome. She understood her motives now at least. It was fear – the fear of losing this odd friendship that had come to mean so much to them both. Sheelagh more than understood that. After all, it was the same reason she was still keeping her fling with Des from Sam.

It was one of those things she couldn't explain, particularly since Sam had mentioned one of her reasons for not telling her the truth about Glenn was because of how 'good' a person she was. Perhaps it was vanity but Sheelagh was desperate for Sam to keep a good opinion of her. Was this how it was for Sam, thinking Sheelagh would hate her because of mistakes she'd made in her past?

She wasn't in work the day Sam was due to return and she stifled her curiosity about how smoothly it had gone – at least on the surface. When she started her next shift she found herself coordinating DC Becker's drugs raid. There was a degree of pleasure in a job well done and it certainly took her mind off her troubles. Before she went home, though, she couldn't resist popping up to CID.

'Knock, knock,' she said, hesitating in the doorway of the DI's Office.

Sam glanced up, a warm smile settling on her face. 'Hey. Come in.'

She followed the instruction, closing the door behind her before sitting down. 'How are you enjoying being back?'

'It markedly improved in the last minute or so,' Sam retorted, stretching out. 'Heard you led the raid for Juliet and Mickey earlier. How did he seem to you?'

'Overwrought,' Sheelagh admitted. 'Anyone would be after losing their mother like that. He's doing his best to mask it but I'd keep an eye on him all the same.'

'Is Juliet keeping him in check?' Sam questioned.

'Doing her best,' replied Sheelagh with a smile. 'I feel like your spy.'

'Not my spy,' Sam said, 'just my...' After trailing off, she chuckled. 'Afraid I don't know what you are to be honest.'

Sheelagh relaxed back into her seat. 'Let's not poke that bear.'

After watching her for a moment, Sam asked, 'How have you been?'

It was perhaps one of Sam's best talents, weakening defences then probing with just the right – or wrong – question. It was a formidable tool in a detective's arsenal and Samantha Nixon was one of the most astute detectives Sheelagh had come across. That's why she shifted uneasily in her chair, knowing all the while that Sam was watching her every motion.

Abruptly, Sam went on, 'You look well anyway.'

It was a lie and Sheelagh knew it. When she'd caught sight of herself in the mirror in the last few days she'd been struck by how changed she was. Patrick hadn't noticed, of course, but Sam had spotted it probably the moment she opened the door to her the other week. She was curious, definitely, though the fact that she was pushing that curiosity aside was the more important thing.

'And how's Abi doing?' Sheelagh questioned.

'She's stopped walking on eggshells,' Sam replied. 'I'm taking that as a good sign. Even if I could do without the music blaring out of her room at all hours.'

'Ah,' said Sheelagh with a grin, 'your ears learn to tune it out, don't they? Declan's going through a heavy metal phase.'

Sam groaned. 'Lucky you.'

'Patrick claims he doesn't notice,' Sheelagh went on, shaking her head. 'Either he's going deaf in his old age or he's more laid-back than I realised when I married him.'

'Maybe a bit of both,' answered Sam.

Reluctantly, Sheelagh dragged herself to her feet. 'I should go. I'm in court tomorrow for an assault case.'

'Swap you for my paperwork,' Sam offered then winced. 'Actually, I don't hate you that much.'

'Good to know,' she returned. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Night, Sheelagh.'

It was strange how a few minutes with Sam calmed her down. She managed to get through the night with only the odd twinge of guilt overtaking her. For the most part, she was learning to situate the Des debacle in the past, though she didn't know how that would hold up when he returned to work.

Her court appearance the next day was as riveting as she expected it to be but at least it kept her out of the station for a while. As soon as she got back she was coerced into relieving Smithy on custody and an influx of prisoners and paperwork kept her busy for the rest of the shift. It was with a degree of exhaustion that she walked to her office to check her desk for fresh reports before she went home.

She'd only just sat down when Sam appeared in the doorway, a curious expression on her face. Instantly intrigued, Sheelagh questioned, 'What's that look for?'

Sam glanced around then stepped inside. 'You know when you hear a rumour and it makes you feel faintly nauseous?'

Sheelagh stiffened, wondering if this was an elaborate attempt to interrogate her and if someone had said something about Des, but she realised a moment later that Sam wasn't about to play those games with her. So she cleared her throat and said, 'Around here, pretty frequently. What's happened?'

'Gary Best streaking around the station,' replied Sam.

Grimacing, Sheelagh tried to shake the image from her head. 'Thanks for that. Why?'

Sam shrugged. 'I was hoping you'd know.'

The conversation had caught the attention of Gina across the corridor. As she joined them Sheelagh felt the same slither of anxiety as she had every time she'd seen the inspector since her lecture about getting involved with Des. In a room with Sam, she felt even more exposed. She knew the friendship between these two was fairly unrestrained, though not nearly as unrestrained as her own relationship with Sam. Gina looked between them, weighing things up in her own indomitable manner.

'If you're talking about me seeing far more of PC Best than I ever wanted to then you're spot on,' she said after a few seconds.

Smothering her smile badly, Sam questioned, 'So he was aiming it at you, was he?'

Sheelagh snorted as Gina shuddered and muttered, 'I bloody well hope not, for his sake. Thought I was hallucinating for a minute. Stress of the job and all that. Anyway, I'll leave you to it,' she said briskly, sparing a glance for Sheelagh before she strode back to her own office.

Although she had obviously watched Gina's demeanour with interest, Sam didn't draw attention to it. Instead, she said, 'I'd better get going as well. Promised Abi I'd be home at something she calls a decent hour.'

'Lucky Abi,' Sheelagh replied. 'Enjoy yourselves.'

Sam stood still for a long moment then seemed to gather herself together. 'You enjoy your night, okay?'

Sheelagh watched her go then cast her eyes to the office across the corridor where Gina Gold was studying her. There was something more than friendly interest of a superior, perhaps something more in it than just knowledge of her relationship with Des. There was an expression on Gina's face that she hadn't seen before and she didn't quite know what it meant. Nor, really, was she eager to find out. If she could go back to keeping her work life professional then she'd be a lot happier. Then again, she conceded with a wry smile as she looked back to her paperwork, being friends with the DI wasn't exactly keeping her life compartmentalised, was it?

The next day she was stationed on custody for the duration, something she was pleased about given that she wasn't feeling at her best. Sometimes custody could be chaotic but this was a quiet day and she got more work done there than she suspected she would've in the confines of her own office. With the door closed in there she was more inclined to stare into space and dwell on the fact that Des was back at Sun Hill tomorrow and that she didn't know on earth she was going to deal with it.

She hadn't seen him since that night at the pub when she'd walked away after seeing where his priorities were. Though her head was telling her that her decision was made and that nothing Des Taviner did was going to change that, she knew she'd been here before. After all, her guiltiest moment in all this mess came from that moment when the Super had walked in on them, very nearly bringing Patrick through the door with him. Des's persistence had almost wrecked her marriage and, as she now realised, it was all just a conquest for him. Reg had pretty much confirmed that and yet she'd still let Des weasel his way back in. What was wrong with her?

There was a difference between being physically attracted to someone and being in love with them. Des had conflated the two, or at least he claimed he had. She didn't know how she'd been so naive as to believe it was anything more than a fling and, more to the point, she didn't want it to be. All she wanted was to forget the mistake she'd made and Des returning to work made that just a little bit harder.

She was contemplating a cup of tea to keep her brain active when she noticed Sam walking down the corridor towards the custody desk. She seemed hesitant – there was a reserved motion in her steps that Sheelagh wasn't used to seeing in DI Nixon.

Coming to the desk, Sam planted her elbows on it and massaged her forehead. 'I need a piece of evidence.'

Sheelagh nodded, gesturing round to the storeroom. Only once they were inside with the door shut did Sam show exactly how off-kilter she was. Pacing across the room, she spun back and tucked her hands behind her neck.

'What is it?' asked Sheelagh gently.

Sam met her eye. 'Do you remember Dr Owen Preston?'

'Of course,' Sheelagh said. 'Polly's friend – the one who killed himself because he was terminally ill. I was the senior officer on the scene afterwards.'

'Right,' Sam replied. 'I've only glanced at the reports so far. Well, his nephew's just been in. He thinks there's something fishy about the case.'

'Fishy?' Sheelagh repeated. 'I thought it was open and shut.'

Sighing, Sam sank into the chair behind the evidence desk. 'It was,' she said. 'It is, for all I know. It could be sour grapes,' she continued. 'I mean, he freely admitted that he was expecting to be the beneficiary of his uncle's will. That didn't happen.'

'What exactly is he saying?' Sheelagh pressed.

'That he finds it suspicious,' Sam said. 'This woman with no prior connection to his uncle comes into his life and a few months later he's dead and she's walking away with a hundred and fifty grand in her bank account.'

'To an outsider it might look odd,' she conceded, 'but Dr Preston was ill and Polly's a police officer. Has the nephew spoken to her?'

Sam nodded. 'Whether it was Polly's attitude that aroused his suspicions or whether he went in there determined to find something, I don't know. He thinks that she suggested she was with him when he died. I have to investigate,' she went on with a reluctant shrug. 'I have to give it credence, whatever I think.'

'Of course you do,' Sheelagh said. 'What's this evidence you need?'

'The syringe he used to administer the morphine. Here, I wrote down the number.'

Digging a piece of paper from her pocket, she handed it over. Sheelagh busied herself with locating the evidence bag and giving Sam a moment to herself. By the time she returned to log it in the book, a new worry had settled over Sam's face.

Sheelagh waited until they'd both signed before she asked, 'Are you okay?'

Sam managed a weak smile. 'Remember what I said to Debbie about her handling of Patrick's case and Brandon's?'

Cottoning on to her train of thought, Sheelagh said, 'This isn't the same thing at all. Debbie's motives were malicious. One look at you and anybody would know you're hardly enjoying yourself.'

'Not anybody,' Sam muttered. 'You, maybe.'

'There's no maybe about it,' returned Sheelagh. 'Listen, why not hand it over to Barton Street, let them investigate?'

'What message does that send?' asked Sam. 'The first whiff of trouble and I don't support our officers?'

'Well, that isn't true. Look at how you handled that complaint against Gemma Osbourne.'

Sam let out a chuckle. 'I didn't exactly do that by the book, did I?'

'No,' Sheelagh admitted, 'but you did investigate the matter very thoroughly. I can attest to that.' Pausing, she reached over and squeezed her wrist. 'I know what you're thinking. Polly's well-liked. You've had all this stuff with Abigail going on and you're worried people will think you're making capital out of a complaint against a fellow officer.'

Gazing at her incredulously, Sam asked, 'Have I got that tattooed in tiny writing on my forehead?'

'How else would I know?' she shot back.

'Very good point,' Sam answered. Turning her hand over, she clasped Sheelagh's fingers briefly then grasped the evidence bag. 'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it,' Sheelagh replied.

There was that usual moment before she opened the door when DI Nixon suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Sheelagh closed the log book and followed her out of the door, watching her stomp down the corridor and inwardly wincing for any unfortunate soul in CID who decided to get in her way until this Polly situation was resolved.

For her part, Sheelagh felt sure this nephew was looking for a convenient scapegoat for the loss of his inheritance. She'd seen Polly immediately after Dr Preston's death, right there at the scene, and her grief hadn't been manufactured. That was even supposing she was capable of whatever the nephew was accusing her of and Sheelagh didn't think that was possible. The investigation was safe in Sam's hands though, whether she doubted her own capabilities or not. Some DIs relished interrogating colleagues as much as DS McAllister did but Sam wasn't one of them, whatever other people in this nick might think.

Whenever Sheelagh felt her mind straying to Des's return that evening, she forced it back to the Polly situation. At least that gave her something to focus on, though she did feel a little guilty for subjecting a grieving colleague to such a thorough mental investigation. The distraction worked to an extent but when she walked into the station the next morning she was acutely aware of the fact that she might bump into Des around any corner. It made every muscle in her body clench until she was safely in the area car with Tony. They spent the morning chasing after a couple of burglars, finally bringing them in just in time for refs. While Tony parked himself with Gary and Reg, Sheelagh sat with her back to the door, hoping Des wouldn't make an appearance. If he did she wouldn't be able to see it and she buried her eyes into her coffee to make sure.

Abruptly, someone sat down in front of her. She jumped then relaxed as she saw that it was Sam.

'I didn't mean to startle you,' she said.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I was miles away. How's it going?'

Glancing around to check nobody was eavesdropping, Sam said quietly, 'What we were talking about yesterday... I'm getting a horrible feeling about it, Sheelagh.'

'Oh, no,' she murmured. 'What's happened?'

'Polly came to see me,' she replied. 'I've seen too many people trying to act normally when they think they're under suspicion. She specifically asked me if Josh Preston had been in. It was a fishing trip.'

'Because he'd said he might?' Sheelagh suggested.

'Possibly,' Sam conceded with a shrug. 'But why the pretence? Why not just come right out and ask without beating around the bush?'

'Not everyone's you,' she reminded her. 'She's bound to be anxious if this Josh is accusing her of being involved in Dr Preston's death.'

'I know, I know,' muttered Sam, leaning back in her chair and casting her eyes around the canteen. 'I wish I could talk myself out of this, I really do. The syringe was on my desk. She saw it and she reacted. She was panicked and she tried to hide it, I didn't imagine that.'

'Sam,' she said softly, 'I wasn't saying you imagined anything. I trust your instincts. If you're telling me there's something wrong, I believe you.'

After holding her gaze for a few moments, Sam inclined her head. 'There's something wrong,' she admitted.

'Okay,' Sheelagh said. 'So what now? Have you spoken to the DCI or the Super?'

'I filled Jack in this morning,' Sam replied. 'I haven't spoken to him since Polly came to see me though. I've sent the syringe to be dusted for prints but it isn't a priority and I don't particularly want to fast-track it.'

Sheelagh smiled sympathetically. 'Then all you can do is wait and see.'

Knotting her fingers together, Sam exhaled. 'You're right, of course you're right.'

'I usually am,' she returned, earning herself a rueful grin.

They sat there in silence for a few moments until Tony cleared his throat beside them. 'Sarge?' he questioned. 'Ready to get going?'

She nodded and drained her cup. 'See you later, Guv,' she said as she stood.

Sam stifled her amusement, probably at the sudden formality. 'Thanks for your help, Sheelagh.'

The afternoon was uneventful but at least Tony was good company. There were definitely worse officers to be stuck in the area car with, though she felt a little uneasy knowing that he was a friend of Polly's. She meant what she'd said to Sam earlier – she did trust her instincts on things like this and she knew there was no venom involved. If there was substance to Josh Preston's allegations then it certainly wasn't what Sam wanted to uncover.

When she got back to the station she managed to skilfully avoid Des by hibernating in her office. That worked well until Smithy came to ask her to cover a couple of hours on CAD while he went on an obbo. She was about to refuse until he mentioned it was Des's obbo. That disarmed her to the extent that she found herself agreeing without actually realising it until he was halfway down the corridor. Then she had to drop Patrick a text letting him know she'd be a little later than she'd said. It was lucky she didn't expect a reply because she didn't get one.

Before going to take over in CAD, she stopped by the bathroom. As she was washing her hands, Sam came in.

'Gina said you were still here,' she said.

Sheelagh reached for a paper towel. 'I'm thinking of moving in,' she replied. 'What are you still doing here?'

Rubbing her eyes, Sam muttered, 'I'm not quite sure. It's been one of those days.' After checking the cubicles were empty, she went on, 'Can I ask you a question?'

'Of course,' she said.

'Off the record,' added Sam.

'How many of our conversations are on the record?' Sheelagh retorted.

Leaning back against the sink, Sam conceded that with a shrug. 'What's your opinion on Cathy Bradford?'

Sighing, Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'I can't say she's the most dependable copper I've ever worked with.'

'And?' Sam probed.

'I haven't personally had much to do with her,' she said. 'Polly has though, hasn't she?'

Sam chuckled. 'You're ahead of me again.'

'More like on your wavelength,' she countered. 'What's going on?'

'Jack suggested I speak to Cathy, see if there was anything else that might explain her unusual behaviour lately. You know,' she continued with a troubled expression, 'Cathy was as open as you'd like, telling me about Polly's grief and the way she'd tried to support her. And I didn't buy a word of it,' she concluded.

'What is it you think Polly did?' Sheelagh questioned after a moment of silence.

Pushing off from the sink, Sam crossed the small room and ran her fingers across the tiled walls. 'If you knew someone you loved was in terrible pain, wouldn't you want to help them?'

'So you think it was euthanasia?'

'Well, I don't think it was murder,' Sam said, turning back. 'But I think Cathy Bradford knows more than she's letting on and that makes me nervous.'

'Understandably,' Sheelagh said. 'You've sent the syringe off though. It's out of your hands.'

'I wish that made me feel better,' replied Sam. 'My gut tells me this isn't going to end well.'

Crossing the room, Sheelagh put a hand on her shoulder. 'You need to go home. There's nothing more you can do and Abi'll be glad to see you.'

'I know,' Sam said softly. 'What about you?'

'Oh, I'm covering CAD in...' She checked her watch. 'About three minutes ago. Don't tell anyone,' she added with a small smile.

'You'd better go before your superior officers find out.'

'They're terrible,' Sheelagh said. 'Especially the ones who don't have homes to go to.'

With one last look, she left Sam standing indecisively in the middle of the bathrooms. She could understand her unease; in fact, she shared it for the first twenty minutes of her shift on CAD. Thinking about a colleague being involved in a euthanasia case which could well lead to manslaughter or murder charges was enough to set anybody on edge. Then Smithy's obbo well and truly kicked off and Polly's predicament was knocked from her mind.

He announced over the radio that they were in pursuit of the area car which had had been stolen by the yobs they were trying to outwit. Des was driving to try and recover it but so far they were being outrun by a kid in a mask. Sheelagh could imagine Des's anger at the situation, even as she tried not to. She sent Honey to fetch Inspector Gold while she monitored the pursuit at her keyboard. As soon as Gina arrived with Superintendent Okaro she relinquished the headset, listening to a good proportion of the chase whilst trying to contain her wince from the sidelines. It took her a while to realise that Gina had brought a cigarette into the room which, given the recent implementation of a smoking ban on police premises, was inadvisable. As she took the headset back, Gina received a pointed look from the Super and extinguished her cigarette in Sheelagh's water. She didn't have time to think of an appropriate response before Smithy reported that they'd lost the area car and a stony silence settled over CAD. One thing was for sure – she wouldn't want to be in Des, Smithy or Kerry's shoes in the morning given the looks on the faces of their superior officers.

Of course, the nick was buzzing with gossip when she arrived the next day. How three experienced officers were fooled by a bunch of kids was something Sheelagh herself was struggling to get her head around, though she was at least wondering about it quietly. Her colleagues didn't have that delicacy and when she saw Gina heading for the canteen before the morning briefing she actually spun on her heel, willing to forego her coffee as long as she didn't get caught in another round of Inspector Gold's crossfire.

Fortunately, she wasn't needed at the briefing since she was covering the station today. However, as she headed in the opposite direction, she did catch her first glimpse of Des since his return from leave. He was stomping towards the briefing room, unkempt and irate. She was ashamed of how long her gaze lingered before she reminded herself to look away.

After liaising with CID on a couple of cases she was returning to her office when someone jogged up behind her. She knew who it was without looking.

'Sheelagh!' Des said.

'Sergeant Murphy to you,' she replied, keeping her footsteps steady.

'How are you doing?' he questioned.

'I'm fine,' she said. 'You're with Kerry today by the way.'

'Right.' He paused, as though he had the audacity to expect her to say something else. 'I was gonna call you while I was off but I thought you might put the phone down on us,' he went on.

She snorted. 'You thought right.'

'I missed you,' he said.

'As much as you missed your mates?' she returned before she could help herself. Then, since she'd allowed him to see that she was still thinking about what a fool he'd made of her, she drew to a halt and looked at him.

'I didn't think you were the type to hold a grudge,' he said.

'Des, I'm meant to be working,' she snapped. 'I don't even want this conversation.'

If only she'd started walking again then perhaps Gina wouldn't have zoned in on them as she barrelled through the nearby double doors.

'Sergeant Murphy?' she called.

Sheelagh winced at her tone. 'Yes, Ma'am?'

'My office,' Gina said. 'That's if you can tear yourself away from PC Taviner, come on.'

Glancing once more at Des, she followed the inspector into her office, wishing she could sink into the floor. Although she remained standing, Gina made it clear she was to sit down in the chair beside the door. Sacrificing height put her at even more of a disadvantage and she curled her toes in her shoes to brace herself.

'This station is not a courting ground,' said Gina finally. 'It is a place of work. Not somewhere to exchange love letters or sneak off for a quickie in the Sergeants' Office.'

Sheelagh looked up. 'I'm really sorry, Ma'am.'

'I warned you not to get involved with a PC,' Gina replied. 'Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't ask you to be transferred.'

She couldn't help it, she had to clamber to her feet and defend herself. 'All I can say is the job's more important,' she said.

Gina eyed her shrewdly. 'Than?'

'More important than PC Taviner,' she clarified. 'I've already ended the relationship,' she added.

As Gina paused, it seemed Sheelagh's words had struck a chord. 'For good?' she pressed.

'Yes, Ma'am,' she answered firmly. 'I want nothing more to do with him – ever.'

'You make sure it stays that way,' Gina said, yanking the door open for her then returning to her desk.

Sheelagh hesitated with one toe pointing towards the corridor. Somehow she wished she could explain to Gina and, more importantly, venture to ask whether she'd kept her suspicions about her and Des to herself. That felt impertinent, though, and she'd be forced to specify that the person she was worried about finding out was Samantha. The person Gina was most likely to tell and the person Sheelagh prayed she wouldn't were one and the same. Unable to articulate that she walked out into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind her.

She was meant to be on CAD all day but Gina sent a message through in the afternoon asking her to cover custody for an hour. She was hardly likely to argue under the circumstances, she was just grateful that the demand had come via someone else and not direct.

Trying to keep track of everything going on in custody was never easy at the best of times but today her mind really wasn't with it. PCs Kent and Buxton brought in a man who then started remonstrating with Mickey for him to get him out.

'Can you get me out too?' Sheelagh called across. 'I was only meant to be covering for an hour.'

Finally, she managed to make her escape from custody, only to be cornered by Gina again.

'Are you going back to CAD?' she asked.

'That's the plan,' she said carefully.

'Well, consider it altered,' Gina replied. 'And on your way back find Ruby and Gabriel and send them to me. It's about the prisoner they just brought in. Okay?'

Without waiting for an answer, she swept along and Sheelagh reluctantly turned on her heel and went to follow the inspector's orders. Her clipped tone was hardly unusual, though Sheelagh did assume it had more to do with their conversation of earlier than pure professional distraction on the part of her superior officer.

She located Ruby and Gabriel to pass on the message then returned to custody with a sinking heart. Des was out there actively searching for the little hooligan who'd trashed the area car and the chances were that he was going to find the lad. Sheelagh knew Des when he was determined to get something – she'd been a prime example of that, after all – and she was certain it would end with him marching the boy into custody.

Sure enough, an hour or so later Des and Kerry made an arrest. She steeled herself as the trio came in and went through the motions of booking the lad in with as much detachment as she could muster. Then, of course, Des had to try his luck as usual. Leaving Kerry trying to shush the prisoner, he came round the side of the desk and leaned in unbearably close.

'See,' he said proudly, 'told you I'd get him.'

'Congratulations,' she muttered, trying to focus on her typing.

'What's up with you?' he asked.

Irritated at his arrogance, she glanced at him. 'Look, you nearly lost me my job today so, from now on, our relationship is strictly professional.'

She squared her shoulders and turned back to Kerry and the boy to itemise his belongings. They got through it with difficulty, partly caused by the prisoner's belligerence and partly because she could feel Des staring at her, though she didn't look in his direction again. By the time they'd taken the boy to interview her stomach was tangled in knots. Once the door closed she rested her palms flat against the desk and sighed. She had to hope this would go away in time. Although she didn't exactly have many options if it didn't. Somehow she couldn't picture herself leaving Sun Hill – and it was nothing to do with wanting to stay near PC Taviner.

Her relief was short-lived. Des returned a little while later to go through the prisoner's phone. She gave it to him without much comment and tried not to react when he triumphantly crowed about something in the corner. Fortunately, he was so absorbed in whatever he'd accomplished that he didn't take any time to torment her and she soon found herself alone again.

She covered custody for another hour before she was summoned to Inspector Gold's office along with Smithy. Gina made a show of handing them both a copy of the job description to remind them of the duties of a sergeant since they'd both apparently forgotten. What Smithy had done to deserve that treatment, she didn't know, but she was just grateful her misdemeanours weren't divulged.

* * *

What followed was a relatively quiet couple of weeks. She had a few days off and then she expended a lot of effort trying to keep her distance from Des. As a consequence of spending half her time on custody and the rest out in the car with various members of the relief she didn't get to see anything of Sam either. In one way that was a good thing. She knew that the more time she spent with Sam the more chance there was of the astute detective deducing exactly what was wrong with her or, at least, deciding that she couldn't help but press the matter. Sheelagh wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as she could – forever, if at all possible. All the same, she found she missed the respite five minutes chatter with Sam gave her.

The feeling must've been mutual. Despite the fact that CID were dealing with a spate of burglaries – one of which was at the DCI's old home – Sam dropped into the Sergeants' Office unannounced and rested her head against the door frame.

'Tough day?' Sheelagh questioned.

'It's only ten o'clock,' Sam replied. 'But, yes, now you mention it. I'm on my way to interview Laura Meadows with Juliet. I sent her to the car, I needed a minute.'

Sheelagh watched her. 'I take it the DCI's on edge about it all?'

Looking over her shoulder, Sam edged further into the office and lowered her voice. 'Well, if you walked out on your wife and a few months later she gets burgled you would feel a bit guilty, wouldn't you? I just wish he'd say it out loud and then we could get on with the job without tiptoeing around him.'

'Do you think he regrets it?' Sheelagh asked after a moment.

Sam hesitated then double-checked no one was eavesdropping. 'I think he's found someone else to be honest. There's something about him. You know what it's like with men,' she went on with a smirk. 'They start ironing creases into their shirts, and they're not very good at it either. So of course he's going to regret it, but only because he's out having fun while Laura's becoming a crime statistic. Sorry,' she added, raising her hand in apology, 'that was uncalled for.'

'It's okay,' Sheelagh replied. 'You look like you could be doing without it.'

'I don't like treading on eggshells,' admitted Sam.

Examining the anxiety in her friend's pose, Sheelagh crossed her arms and said, 'I don't suppose you've heard anything on Dr Preston's syringe yet.'

The statement seemed to uncoil Sam. She stepped forward and tapped her foot against the leg of the table. 'I flagged it to alert Barton Street if there were any prints on there apart from Dr Preston's. I thought it was best under the circumstances.'

'Well, then you've done your job,' Sheelagh said. 'You need to put it out of your mind, focus on the burglaries.'

'It's another minefield,' Sam muttered then her gaze caught on something on the desk. Picking up the hefty tome still resting there from weeks ago, she looked at the front cover. 'Did you need a doorstop?'

Sheelagh grimaced. 'Just a refresher.'

A flicker of curiosity crossed Sam's face but she mastered it. 'For the record,' she said, dumping the book back onto the desk, 'you don't need a refresher. You're doing fine.'

'That's a matter of opinion,' Sheelagh replied and then she could've cut out her tongue. The last thing Sam needed was any further incitement to interrogation. Fortunately, she seemed to make a deliberate effort not to indulge her interest and returned to the door instead.

'I'd better go talk to Laura Meadows,' she said.

'Good luck,' returned Sheelagh.

She was almost relieved when the door clicked shut, though she'd rather have Sam's company and some awkward questions than otherwise. It took her a few minutes to focus in on her paperwork and then she managed to absorb herself for quite a while. Eventually, a flash of blonde hair caught her eye. Perhaps it was innate after all this time but she somehow knew it was Sam and she didn't like the speed of it. Immediately rising, she went out into the corridor and, on instinct, headed for the bathroom. There were only a limited number of places Sam would inhabit down here and it wasn't likely she'd made an arrest just yet, however wonderful she was at her job.

Her hunch paid off. When she entered the bathroom Sam was washing her hands. She looked up and saw her there, though her evident relief was tempered by a gesture towards an occupied cubicle. Sheelagh covered her own presence by making an effort to cleanse a marker pen stain from her thumb. That was enough to divert the young PC who flushed the chain a few minutes later, at least from her. There was no way on earth that a fragile constable would dare question why DI Nixon was lingering in the bathrooms.

The door swung closed and Sam let out her breath. 'Do you have a sixth sense?' she questioned.

Sheelagh chuckled. 'No, but I did see you rushing past the office looking like you wanted to kill somebody.'

'And you came to stop me?' Sam asked.

'Or to hide the body,' she retorted. 'What's wrong?'

Sighing, Sam leaned against the sink. 'When we went to see Laura Meadows this morning she couldn't tell us anything useful. But she just called me back over there half an hour ago, wouldn't talk to anyone else. I wasn't exactly patient with her,' she conceded with a wince. 'I thought it was the usual sort of overreacting, thought she was panicking over something and nothing.'

'But she wasn't?' Sheelagh pressed gently.

Sam shook her head. 'Turns out she's signed up to an online dating agency. She was too embarrassed to tell me in front of Juliet but it means someone's had access to the house. It changes the case.'

'I see,' Sheelagh murmured. 'Is that common to the victims?'

'I don't know,' Sam admitted. 'None of them have suggested they were involved in online dating. If it is a lead and none of them have mentioned it then, yeah, it's likely to be significant. Could blow the case right open.'

Sheelagh reached out and touched her arm. 'So what's the problem?'

'I've got to tell the DCI his wife's been dating strange men off the internet,' replied Sam. 'And then I've got to investigate it without half the nick finding that out.'

'I can see the predicament,' Sheelagh said.

'Don't suppose you want to tell him for me?' queried Sam hopefully.

She smiled. 'I think he might wonder whether he promoted me and didn't notice.'

'That'd distract him at least,' Sam said.

Sheelagh conceded that with a shrug. 'If he is seeing someone then surely he can't complain that she's been dating.'

'Double-standards, remember.' Rubbing her eyes, Sam added, 'Whichever way this goes, it won't be pretty. I don't get paid enough for this.'

'Get it over with,' Sheelagh advised. 'Then solve the investigation as quickly as you can and hide for the rest of the week.'

Sam's lips twitched. 'Is that your expert advice?'

'Born out of much experience,' she said. 'Come on,' she continued, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the door, 'stop procrastinating.'

'Yes, Guv,' Sam said with a small grin.

'No cheek,' Sheelagh warned. Before they reached the corridor, she relinquished her grip on Sam, though she didn't move once they were out there. 'Go on,' she insisted.

Sam snorted. 'Slave-driver.'

After watching her towards the back staircase, Sheelagh smiled and returned to her own office. It was a productive afternoon, mainly because she was away from the colleagues who generally added to her workload. She had to cover custody for an hour but it was a quiet hour, punctuated by random choruses of 'Roll Out the Barrel' from cell number five. She hadn't seen the prisoner personally, though she got the impression he was something of an aged wannabe from the yelps whenever he tried to jump up on his bed between renditions. He'd been brought in for drunk and disorderly and she suspected he might be in there for a while yet, though with a constitution like that they should send him away for analysis.

She'd just got back to her office when Gina appeared in the doorway. Sheelagh immediately stiffened, wondering if this was going to be a rehash of their last conversation about Des, but there was a spring in Gina's step that didn't come from irritation this time.

'I suppose Samantha's got you involved in this internet dating scam, has she?' she asked.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I haven't seen her for a few hours. Is this to do with...' She trailed off as she remembered that all her conversations with Sam these days were private and confidential.

Gina glanced along the corridor. 'Oh, you're in the loop about that then. Is there anything she doesn't tell you?'

'She doesn't tell me anything sensitive,' said Sheelagh quickly. 'She wouldn't.'

'I wasn't labouring under the impression that she would,' Gina said. Something in her attitude had shifted, though Sheelagh couldn't put her finger on it. Stepping further inside the office, Gina rested her hand on the sergeant's job description that Sam had picked up earlier. 'Honest with her as well, are you?'

'To a degree,' she replied carefully.

'Maybe that's why she didn't ask for your help then,' Gina remarked. 'Easier to stick with Cathy, June and me. Perhaps she thought dating profiles were a little close to the bone, hmm?'

With that, she turned and went into her own office, slamming the door behind her. Sheelagh leaned back in her chair, trying to work out how that conversation had unravelled so quickly. Gina Gold was one of the best inspectors she'd come across and she regretted invoking her disappointment in the way she had, but she could also be a formidable adversary. Sheelagh wanted her respect, though she didn't know how long it would take for her to earn that back. In the meantime, she wondered how much respect Sam had for her right now.

Gina was probably spot on – the only real reason Sam could have for not involving her in something that she'd apparently got half the nick in on was if she had an inkling of the Des affair. So, despite how at ease they seemingly were with each other, there was something hovering between them again, just like there had been when Sam had refused to confide in her about Glenn Weston being Abi's father. It was all well and good Sam making a conscious effort not to mention it, but when it came to something like this it apparently held her back both professionally and personally. Sheelagh couldn't accept that so there was only one thing for it. Without wasting another second, she strode up to CID.

None of the officers looked up as she walked in – probably too worried she'd pass a fresh case on – and she made it all the way round to Sam's private office before she slowed her steps. The woman in question was focused intently on something on her computer, mouthing words to herself in a manner which could be called adorable if Sheelagh was in a better mood.

'Can I come in?' she asked.

Sam jumped then glanced furtively to her screen. 'Is there a problem?' she returned.

Crossing her arms, Sheelagh said, 'You tell me. You've got the female half of the station involved in this internet dating ruse but you don't ask me. Why is that?'

After clearing her throat, Sam muttered, 'I assumed you'd be busy.'

'That isn't it, is it? Don't treat me like a fool, we both know what's going on here.'

'Do we?' Sam questioned, a little nervously.

Sheelagh sghed. 'If you've got something to say about any aspect of my life, Sam, I wish you'd just come out and –'

'Wait, wait,' Sam cut in, motioning her into the office and gesturing for her to close the door. Once it clicked, she continued, 'Sheelagh, I really did think you'd be too busy and I didn't wanna bother you so... Well, I wrote your profile myself.'

For a moment Sheelagh could only stare. Then she managed to ask, 'Are you serious?'

'That depends on whether you're going to report me for professional misconduct or hit me,' Sam answered.

'Of course I'm not,' she said, feeling the tension in her shoulders disintegrate. 'I'm sorry, I was just –'

'You don't have to explain,' interrupted Sam, her blush extending to her ears.

Sheelagh hesitated. 'Can I read it?'

'Oh, erm...' Reaching for a scrap of paper, Sam held it up. 'I wrote down your log-in details. You'll need to upload a photo later anyway. I might be resourceful but I haven't got candid pictures of the entire nick at my disposal.'

Taking the note, Sheelagh smiled. 'There was me thinking your resources were limitless.'

Sam chuckled. 'Sorry to disappoint. At least writing your profile was easier than writing mine.' She gestured to the screen. 'That's what I'm trying to do at the moment.'

'Want me to take a look?' she offered. Just when she thought Sam couldn't look more uncomfortable, her blush deepened once more. 'Come on,' she coaxed. 'I'm sure I can find something good to say that borders on the truthful.'

'We're trying to attract a thief, not a psychopath,' Sam replied, nevertheless shrugging her assent.

Sheelagh rounded the desk and leaned down to read the scant lines of text Sam had managed to write. Then she nudged her out of the way and said, 'Give me the keyboard.'

Grimacing, Sam muttered, 'There's really no need to –'

'Keyboard,' she interjected. She suppressed her smile as Sam reluctantly shuffled it over, appearing for a moment irrepressibly like her daughter. After flexing her fingers, Sheelagh began typing, making a point of reading her words at the same time. 'I'm a career-woman looking to take time out of my busy schedule to meet the right man. I'm a...' She stopped and glanced sideways. 'What would you be if you weren't a copper?'

'An inmate probably,' Sam quipped.

Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'Criminal or mental?'

'Take your pick,' retorted Sam, massaging her neck. 'Okay, okay, I suppose I might've been a lecturer or something. I'm good at telling people what to do.'

'I hadn't noticed,' Sheelagh said as she typed that in. 'Lecturer in what? Computing?'

'I'll get a load of nutters wanting me to fix their modems, won't I?'

'You don't actually have to go out with them, you know,' answered Sheelagh, trying to contain her smirk. 'Unless it floats your boat, that is.

Sam opened her mouth then closed it again, apparently rethinking whatever sarcastic comment had popped into her head. After a few moments she cleared her throat. 'Lecturer in computing it is then. Can we leave it at that?'

'No chance,' Sheelagh said. 'I think we need to sand down your rough edges a little.'

'Excuse me?' Sam queried.

Sheelagh thought about it for a moment then continued typing. 'Or perhaps just outright lie then. So... Outside of work I'm very laid-back, enjoying romantic meals and long walks.'

Burying her head in her hands, Sam groaned.

'I'd love to meet the right man to share these with me,' she went on, 'but so far I've been very unlucky in love.'

'Understatement of the century,' Sam said, her voice muffled.

Chuckling, Sheelagh drummed her fingers on the desk then clicked them twice. 'Right, how about this for the last bit? I can be a little impulsive and that's got me into trouble in the past but it certainly makes for an interesting life. There,' she concluded, turning to Sam, 'how does that sound?'

Lifting her head up, Sam replied, 'Like a nightmare.'

'I rather enjoyed that,' said Sheelagh.

Sam snorted. 'Well, I'm glad one of us did.'

For a moment they stood looking at each other in silence – amused on Sheelagh's, awkward on Sam's – then there was a knock on the door and it burst open to reveal Eva.

'Guv, there's a – oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.'

Sheelagh shook her head and returned to the other side of the desk. 'I should get back to work.'

Exchanging one last look with Sam, who seemed much more flustered than usual, she headed through CID and down into her own office, the little scrap of paper with her site log-in details practically burning a hole in her pocket.

First, she went through the motions of finding a suitable picture from the family snaps she kept in her bottom drawer and scanned it in. Then, finally, she logged into the profile Sam had created for her and sat back in her seat. There was only a short blurb alongside the essential details but it packed a punch: _I'm a nurse working unsociable hours, which makes it difficult to meet someone. I'm a very patient, warm woman who manages to juggle all the things life throws at you without making a mess of it all. What I'm looking for is a nice, gentle man who won't mind if I'm a little shy at times but doesn't mind challenging me either._

Sheelagh smiled to herself. No wonder Sam had felt embarrassed about writing it but, really, it was one of the sweetest things she'd encountered in ages. After adding her photograph to the profile, she closed the site down, though she lingered in the station for a little longer, unwilling to go home for whatever reason.

That night Declan dropped in just long enough to ask to stay out at a friend's and she readily agreed. It was a night where she wouldn't have to plumb the depths of her culinary expertise to find something enticing which didn't bore her to tears and that wasn't green. Patrick came home with a few amusing stories of his shift that kept the rest of them happy and she managed to coast through the evening without saying too much.

When she arrived the next morning she was tasked to go out in the area car with Tony. That meant she'd miss the briefing that Sam had emailed her about first thing. It would've been easiest to email back her apologies but she felt the urge to go upstairs and apologise directly. So she asked Tony to wait for her in the yard and quickly went upstairs. She found Sam with her nose in her paperwork as usual, though the door was ajar.

'Morning,' Sheelagh said.

Sam glanced up, a tired smile on her face. 'Morning.'

Stepping inside, she questioned, 'Late night, was it?'

'The arson investigation kept me here till gone eleven,' Sam replied. 'It was one of those cases, you know?'

'I heard about it downstairs,' Sheelagh said as she sat down. 'Are you okay?'

'Well, I will be when they nail that property developer,' Sam said. 'Preferably to the wall. And, in the meantime, I hope we get a hit on this dating scam thief. I just fancy kicking criminal lowlife today, though if we ever end up in a courtroom or tribunal I'm relying on you not mentioning that.'

'Goes without saying. Listen,' she went on, suddenly recalling Tony waiting for her outside, 'I've been posted in the area car so I won't be able to make the briefing. No hits on my profile so far though. What about yours?'

'Nothing yet,' Sam answered, shifting in her seat. 'He's got a wealth of options to choose from, hasn't he?'

Sheelagh glanced over her shoulder before saying, 'If he chooses Debbie or Cathy then he deserves everything that's coming to him.'

Chuckling, Sam stretched out. 'And, of course, I didn't hear you say that either.'

'Hear what?' Sheelagh retorted, rising to her feet. 'I'll see you later.'

Her morning with Tony in the area car proved fairly uneventful. They responded to a few domestics but, for the most part, acted as a deterent over on the Jasmine Allen Estate. Sheelagh liked being out with Tony. He was a good partner, eager to chat but also happy to sit in silence when he was asked to. Unlike going out in the car with someone like Kerry or Gary, for instance, Sheelagh didn't feel the pressure of being the sergeant in charge.

So when they returned to the nick for refs she was actually much more relaxed than she had been when on duty in recent months. Perhaps that had a lot to do with the fact that she was avoiding Des with minimal effort on her part. It felt as though her prayers were being answered and she was grateful that any temptation he offered was being kept away from her.

She dropped by her office to check her messages then walked to the canteen. Tony was already settled with Gabriel, Gary and Smithy so, once she'd got her sandwich and coffee, she deposited herself by the window and proceeded to stare into space.

'Penny for 'em.'

The abrupt voice jolted her from her thoughts. She hadn't even heard Sam sit down, though judging from the look of amusement on her face she might have been there for a while.

'Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?' Sheelagh asked, realising a second later that she was deflecting and not quite knowing why.

Although she obviously noticed that, Sam ignored it. 'June got a hit on her profile,' she answered. 'We're all set for an obbo tonight. She encourages him back to the obbo flat, he copies the key, clocks the alarm code and we get the break-in on tape afterwards. Simple.'

'You sound far too excited about this,' Sheelagh pointed out.

Sam tapped her fingers on the table. 'Catching scum, Sheelagh – it's what it's all about.'

She smothered her smile. 'I thought it was about keeping the public safe.'

'Luckily for me, they go hand in hand,' Sam replied. 'How's your day going?'

'Well. And don't you dare jinx it,' she warned.

'More than my life's worth,' said Sam.

Making a conscious effort to relax, Sheelagh leaned back in her chair. 'So are you leading the obbo then? Seeing as you're so enthusiastic.'

Sam's lips twitched. 'You know, for the record I'm not eager to send one of our officers out for a date with a thief but it's just the way things have worked out.'

'That's your story and you're sticking to it?' Sheelagh asked.

'Something like that. And,' Sam continued, 'to answer your question, yeah, I'm running it with Brandon. It'll be good experience for him.' When Sheelagh swallowed diplomatically, she let out a soft laugh. 'What?'

'Nothing, nothing,' she answered. 'Only that being in a closed environment with you certainly is an experience.'

'Well, you'd know,' Sam returned as she stood. 'I'd better go intimidate my DCs, I'll catch you later.'

Sheelagh watched her go with a smile then reached for her lukewarm coffee. She had many things to be thankful for her life and her unusual friendship with Samantha Nixon was one of them. Despite the fact that Des was still nagging at the back of her mind, she knew that she belonged in Sun Hill. Any transitory thoughts she'd had about retreating from the mess she'd caused had vanished again – she couldn't imagine her days without the occasional amusement triggered by conversations with Sam. They were helping her forget as much as anything else.

The rest of her shift wasn't as calm as the morning. She was also starting to feel delicate again, as though she'd poisoned herself with the casserole she'd made last night, though she knew if that was the case Patrick and Connor would've already told her about it. She let Tony do the running after suspects, covering her own indisposition by quipping that he needed the exercise more than she did. Being a gentleman, he replied as she brought a struggling teenager back to the car, he wouldn't argue against that.

There was a lot going on when she returned to the station towards the end of her shift. As a favour, she slipped onto custody for half an hour, which turned into an hour and continued stretching on. In truth, she didn't feel as guilty as she usually would for not rushing home to referee between the boys or ask Siobhan politely to clean the bathroom sink for the third time this week. Perhaps it was strange to be seeking refuge from her problems in the nick when there was a significant chance of seeing Des around every corner but there was also a chance of seeing Sam and that levelled out the risk somewhat.

She got the opportunity she didn't know she'd been waiting for when she heard a snatched conversation between Nick Klein and Phil Hunter as they passed through custody. They mentioned Sam and how she'd 'believed' them, which was dubious enough for Sheelagh to take note of even if she didn't listen out for anything relating to Sam anyway.

Finally managing to extricate herself from custody, she rushed to get changed then trudged up to CID with her bag slung over her shoulder. Most of the main office was empty and Sam was just packing up herself, looking troubled.

'What's been going on?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam spun around then glanced beyond her into the office, looking for something in particular.

'Most people have gone,' Sheelagh supplied. 'Except Mickey, Juliet and DS Hunter.' She added the final name pointedly and Sam looked up with that usual mix of relief and surprise that they were on the same wavelength.

'Did you drive in today?' she questioned after a moment. When Sheelagh shook her head, she went on, 'I could give you a lift if you fancy it.'

'That'd be great,' Sheelagh said, leaning against the door frame and watching Sam finish packing her bag.

They went down to the car park in silence, Sam muttering a curt goodnight to Phil and a couple of other officers but generally displaying her unapproachable superior act for public consumption. If Sheelagh was on the other end of it she certainly wouldn't be eager to interrupt DI Nixon on her way out of the station and no one was fool enough to try. Only when they were outside in the cool night air did Sam seem to relax and slowed her step.

'So what have you heard about tonight's messes?' she asked, glancing sideways.

Sheelagh shrugged. 'Not much,' she said. 'I overheard something Phil was saying to Nick in custody half an hour ago. It made me suspicious.'

'I'm not sure I want to ask,' Sam muttered. 'Though I suspect I already know.'

'Start at the beginning,' Sheelagh advised.

Guiding her to the right, Sam said, 'I'm parked over here. Okay,' she went on, 'so I'm guessing you heard about the teenager who collapsed in the cells earlier?'

'Yeah, I read the notes when I was covering custody. Overdose, wasn't it?'

Sam nodded. 'The brother of the young boy who's already critical. That one was a nightmare to start with and Gabriel obviously didn't search him properly. I had to leave that to go on the obbo with Brandon and June.'

She broke off as they reached the car and unlocked the doors, tossing her bag unceremoniously in the back then shifting a pile of newspapers from the passenger seat as Sheelagh opened the door. After looking at them for a moment, Sam threw them onto the back seat.

'When do you have time to read newspapers?' Sheelagh questioned as they settled in.

'Short answer? I don't.' As she twisted the key in the ignition, they both winced as loud music erupted in the small space. Sam quickly punched the radio into silence but not before Sheelagh had recognised the song and was laughing to herself. 'Don't,' Sam warned.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she replied, though her apology was diluted by her chuckles. 'I never thought of you as an ABBA girl, that's all.'

'It helps me unwind,' Sam answered, the blush on her face evident even in the gloom.

'Your secret's safe with me,' Sheelagh said as they reversed out of the parking space. 'Mind you, at this point I'm thinking of charging you for them. Could do with a little extra cash.'

'Little? You could afford an extension on the house.' Sam focused on her driving until they were out on the road then she continued, 'As I was saying –'

'That's right,' cut in Sheelagh, 'change the subject.'

Throwing her an amused glance, Sam restarted, 'As I was saying, then I had to go out on the obbo with June, which turned out to be a disaster as well. Everything was going fine. She'd just invited him back to the flat but... Well, I don't know what happened,' she admitted with a shrug. 'He made a move and she flipped, blew the operation. She ran out of the restaurant in tears. I was trying to get out of her what the hell was going on –'

'Delicately and compassionately,' Sheelagh interrupted with as much of an innocent expression as she could muster.

That threw Sam off momentarily and she cleared her throat. 'Of course,' she went on after a decent pause. 'Anyway, before I could work out what had gone wrong I was called to an accident at a derelict nightclub. Suspect was being chased by Nick and Cameron, out cold with a metal pole in his hands and three very shifty coppers on the scene.'

'Phil had got there first, I take it,' Sheelagh said.

'Popping up like the proverbial bad penny,' Sam confirmed. 'Course, they were all on message by the time I arrived. The story is that the suspect came at Nick and he defended himself with his asp. Somehow this fella ends up unconscious and Nick's bleeding from a cut on his hand.'

'From defending himself against a metal pole?' Sheelagh queried.

Sam looked sideways and inclined her head. 'You can see the problem with that and I can see the problem with that but to the three of them it's a cover story. Covering what, I don't know, to be fair. There's nothing I could see that would cause that sort of injury and why lie about it if there was a genuine scuffle?'

Sheelagh studied her face under the intermittent flashes of street lamps. 'What is it you think happened?'

'I don't know,' Sam admitted. 'I do think Nick's out to prove himself since he got back to work. He rushed into the arson flat the other day without bothering about his own safety. At the time I thought he was becoming a liability. Rehabilitate him, yeah, but not at Sun Hill. The thing is,' she continued, 'anything that has Phil Hunter's paw prints over it makes me nervous. Cameron was holding something back and I'd love to know what. That's my job for the morning, I think.'

For a few moments Sheelagh waited but the expected question didn't come. So she asked, 'Don't you want to know what I overheard?'

Shaking her head, Sam replied, 'I've said before, you're not my spy. I don't want you feeling like you have to inform on your colleagues. I trust you to know when there's something you need to pass on from a professional standpoint.'

Suppressing her smile, Sheelagh looked back out of the window. They were nearing home and, almost imperceptibly, she was beginning to feel that usual sensation of guilt bubbling around in her stomach. If Sam noticed the shift in the air she didn't mention it and Sheelagh made a conscious effort to try and master her discomfort. She hit on a way to do that as they turned into her road. Leaning forward, she turned the CD player back on. Suddenly, they were overcome by the chorus of 'Waterloo' and Sam let out a groan.

'Just trying to help you unwind,' Sheelagh said.

Pulling up in front of the house, Sam replied, 'You're not going to let me forget that, are you?'

'Not a chance,' she said as she opened the door. 'Thanks for the lift.'

Sam just nodded and watched her up the path. She didn't turn the car around until Sheelagh was halfway through the door and she heard it growling into the distance as she stepped into the hallway. Immediately, she felt a little isolated, despite the television noise coming from the living room and the music rattling the upper floor. Putting her keys on the hall table, she pasted on her best smile and sauntered into the kitchen.

* * *

The next morning she felt rotten. She tried to blame it on lack of sleep, though she suspected it was more deep-set than that. Any optimism she might've had yesterday had disintegrated, possibly because things felt more complicated without Samantha Nixon's reassuring presence in the seat beside her.

For much of the day she was posted to CAD, a reasonable assignment considering how she felt. She went to cover custody for an hour late afternoon then retreated to her office for a date with her mounting paperwork. It was there she heard voices drifting past the door about rumours that were circulating around the station. It was enough to make her stand up and wander down towards custody to see if the gossip seemed any more realistic from that standpoint. Unfortunately, down there she heard it first-hand and it sounded more than credible. She sighed and started to return to her office. Then she was overcome by a wave of nausea and diverted to the bathroom. Nothing came of the nausea and she was washing her hands when the door opened and Sam walked in.

'Oh, hi,' she said with a strained smile.

Sheelagh moved to get a paper towel. 'You look like someone in the cells is claiming one of your DCs slept with him last night.'

'Funny that,' Sam replied, leaning against the sink. 'I'm afraid Eva confirmed it. She didn't have a clue he was going to be brought in for questioning, of course, but that's not making my job any easier at the moment.'

'What's he accused of?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Drug dealing,' said Sam. 'He supplied the bad drugs that killed that young boy. We've got enough on him but he's determined to kick up a stink about Eva on the way to prison. The case comes before her reputation, I told her that.' She managed a wry smile. 'That didn't go down well, I have to say. I understand where she's coming from, Sheelagh, and maybe it's hypocritical but I can't put preserving her marriage ahead of securing a conviction.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Sheelagh asked, 'Is she going to tell Paul?'

'She might have to,' Sam answered. 'If he continues bleating she might not have a choice. But if he drops it then she should be in the clear. Provided there aren't any unwanted souvenirs, if you get my drift.'

Brushing past her, Sam headed for a cubicle. As the door creaked shut Sheelagh caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Although she wanted desperately to be sick, she forced herself to the door.

'I'll see you later,' she called, barely recognising her own voice.

Out in the corridor, she almost succumbed to a wave of panic. How was it she hadn't thought of this before? She was no stranger to the signs of pregnancy, either as a mother or a nurse, but somehow she'd ignored the possibility of unwanted consequences from her few meetings with Des. It was perhaps that she'd known the truth at the back of her mind and just hadn't wanted to deal with it. After all, the way he'd treated her was hardly conducive to bringing a new life into the world, even if she'd wanted to. And, besides, there was no getting out of it, not for her with her beliefs. Maybe her mind had put off joining the dots for as long as possible, knowing what the ramifications were going to be.

She had to be sure though. Begging Smithy to cover her for an hour, she went to the chemist to buy a pregnancy test before slipping into a nearby pub and taking the test there. It was hardly an auspicious location to find out she was expecting her fourth child but, given the circumstances, maybe it was appropriate.

Returning to the station, she heard that June and Gina had successfully trapped the internet scammer. As she walked to the Sergeants' Office June caught up with her and mentioned that she was wanted in the front office. She offhandedly questioned whether she was hiding and, on a whim, Sheelagh admitted she was. From there it was only a short step to admitting that she was pregnant. She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth but, really, if she was going to tell someone then it would have to be someone like June. She couldn't tell Patrick or Des and she couldn't imagine telling Sam. Though she didn't fully understand the impulse that had prompted her to keep her liaison with Des secret from Sam, she knew it was important for her to hold onto the respect she had for her. The longer the secret stretched between them the more unlikely that respect was to hold.

Dealing with June's cautious enthusiasm right now was easier than dealing with Sam's disappointment. She resolved to get the shift over with and then think about the problem then. She wasn't fooling herself though – she knew she'd put off thinking about this for as long as she could. Because if she stopped to think about it then she knew for a fact that everything would change and she certainly wasn't ready for that.


	10. Chapter 10

Sometimes a few days in Sun Hill felt like a lifetime.

Knowing things before other people was a perk of being Acting DI but it was also a curse sometimes. Perhaps if she'd seen Sheelagh since that conversation in the bathroom she might've confided in her about what was going on. She'd have felt no guilt whatsoever about doing that, not only because Sheelagh was already fully apprised of the problematic situation. Somehow, talking through her problems with Sheelagh helped her peace of mind and she knew that confidentiality was assured. Still, she got the distinct feeling Sheelagh had been avoiding her over the last couple of days. Whether that was something to do with Des Taviner again she didn't know, though she was itching to find out. If she hadn't been mindful of Sheelagh's right to privacy, she might've gone straight to Gina and asked her outright if she knew what was going on. From the few interactions she'd witnessed between Sheelagh and the inspector since their last coded conversation on the subject, Sam suspected something else had happened. Perhaps Gina had discovered something a little more concrete about Sheelagh's affair. That would at least explain the frostiness between them.

Sam had reined in her curiosity, just as she'd had to a dozen times around Sheelagh lately. Part of her was dismayed that Sheelagh didn't seem inclined to confide in her about Des but, on the other hand, they were certainly closer than Sam had a right to expect given her avoidance of the Glenn Weston issue. Whenever she doubted the strength of their friendship all she had to do was remember that, despite the fact she hadn't told her the reason behind her visit, Sheelagh had descended on her doorstep twice because she was upset about Des or something similar.

Even so, Sam had missed her company over the last few days. She badly needed to talk this one through before it hit the station headlines, though she couldn't seek her out solely for the purpose of unburdening herself. What Sheelagh was going through right now was probably bad enough without Sam throwing her own accelerant onto the fire.

Sitting in her office, she watched CID empty as people disappeared to Gary's surprise party. She was asked a few times if she was going along and she lied that she'd be there later. In truth, she had no intention of going to the party but, then, she didn't much feel like going home either. So she stayed in the limbo of paperwork, alternating it with revision for her upcoming final inspector exam. She'd told no one about that yet, not even Sheelagh.

A voice in the doorway startled her: 'Juliet said you were still here.'

Sam glanced up, undeniably relieved to see this particular friendly face. 'Aren't you going to the party?' she questioned.

Sheelagh shook her head as she collapsed into the chair opposite, still in her uniform. 'Couldn't face it. What about you?'

'I'd rather keep my head down,' she answered. 'Some things you don't want a ringside seat for.'

'What, Gary getting drunk?' Sheelagh asked.

She tried to smile but failed. 'I had DCI Ross on the phone earlier.'

Sheelagh sat up straighter. 'From MIT?'

'We've got a bit of a history, me and him,' Sam replied. 'He led the Kitson investigation and we clashed more than once. But he rang a few days ago to let me know there was a problem and he had the decency to give me a head's up about the results on Dr Preston's syringe before he...'

'Before he arrests Polly,' Sheelagh concluded for her in a murmur.

Sam felt as though a weight had been lifted. Nodding, she said, 'I'm a coward, Sheelagh. I couldn't face it. I had to keep it to myself for the last few days. It's been torture. Maybe I should've kept Polly here on a pretext tonight but I couldn't find her. I tried,' she added. 'Cathy said she'd gone shopping and was meeting her at the party.'

It seemed as if Sheelagh was having the same difficulty digesting the information that Sam had experienced a few days ago. Seeing Polly Page as a killer was hardly easy and then, of course, there was everything that came next. Sam had engrossed herself in the statement Sheelagh had taken from Polly following Dr Preston's death until she knew every detail. There was no way that statement correlated with her fingerprints being found on the syringe which proved she'd lied. At the very least that meant she was finished as a police officer, something Sam found unpalatable. The fact that Cathy Bradford was roaming around in CSU while Polly would be suspended unceremoniously wasn't something she appreciated. She might not have the same policing style as PC Page – in truth, it was a little too close to Sergeant Ackland's for her liking – but she recognised its uses. And, really, it was close to Sheelagh's style of working. However, what she could excuse and actually value in Sheelagh usually irritated her in other officers. Perhaps that was Gina Gold's influence rubbing off.

'Are they treating it as murder?' Sheelagh asked finally.

'I suspect so,' Sam said. 'Polly lied in her statement, didn't she?'

'But you don't think it was murder?' pressed Sheelagh.

'I've said before,' she answered, 'I don't think Polly's a murderer. You know, I didn't want to be right about this.'

'I know that,' Sheelagh said quietly.

Glancing up, Sam saw the sympathy in her eyes and was forced to take a long, steadying breath. She wanted to ask Sheelagh if she was all right, question her about what was going on and why she looked so pale, but she couldn't. Somehow she recognised that opening that can of worms would be bad for them both, though she couldn't explain why.

'Do you want a lift home?' she questioned after a few moments of silence.

A tired smile slipped onto Sheelagh's face. 'With or without ABBA?'

'Whichever you'd prefer,' she returned. 'Go on, you grab your stuff and I'll meet you in the front office.'

At least the prospect of giving Sheelagh a lift home gave her something to focus on. She shut down her computer and stowed her revision materials into her bag, checking that she hadn't left any telltale signs anywhere on the desk. She was funny with exams – they brought out the worst in her and the more people who knew about it the less chance she had of sailing through it. Abi seemed to have inherited that, more's the pity. Her GCSEs were going to be a nightmare in a few months and Sam was already bracing herself.

When she reached the front office Sheelagh was already waiting for her. She didn't ask how she'd managed to get changed so quickly but she was grateful not to have to make small talk with the PC behind the desk and they struck out into the darkening evening. They didn't say anything as they walked to the car but it was a comfortable silence, although she had to glance sideways a few times to check that feeling was mutual.

As they settled into the car, Sam gestured to the CD player. Sheelagh just shrugged and so, when it began spurting out 'SOS', the noise was perfectly welcome as far as she could see. They travelled without a word, only the changing songs keeping them company. Even so, Sam felt better by the end of the journey. She was reminded of Sheelagh driving her home after Abi's overdose – the atmosphere was a strange one in a different way and she dreaded what came after it. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare at work and, along with that, she wasn't sure whatever was tormenting Sheelagh was going to disappear. After all, it hadn't yet. Maybe at some point she'd confide in her and, when she did, Sam intended to be sympathetic and open.

'Sam,' Sheelagh said abruptly, turning the music down.

She glanced sideways. They were only a minute or so from Sheelagh's street but perhaps that was why she'd broken her silence now. The look on anxiety on her friend's face was more acute than she was used to dealing with and for a moment it threw her. Maybe that was the reason Sheelagh's eyes drooped.

'What?' Sam questioned, despite knowing the opportunity had slipped through her fingers.

'Thanks for the lift,' Sheelagh muttered finally.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension, she replied, 'Thanks for putting up with ABBA.'

As the car drew to a halt, Sheelagh hesitated further, as though she was caught between the rock of staying in the car and the hard place of going into her own home. Sam knew that feeling well. Over the last year with Abi she'd been inclined more than once to drive back to the nick and spend the night catching up on her paperwork.

Reaching across the gearstick, Sam rested her hand over Sheelagh's. 'It means a lot, you know,' she said. 'That when I say I didn't want Polly's prints to be on that syringe you believe I mean it. Most people wouldn't, maybe they've got reason to think badly of me. So have you really,' she went on with a wry smile. 'But I hope you know that when I lied to you about Glenn, it wasn't that I didn't trust you. It was just that I couldn't be open with you, not right then. I got there eventually though.'

Sheelagh's eyes glistened in the darkness. 'So you did.' Leaning over, she pulled her into a lopsided hug that pressed the air out of Sam's body. Before she retreated, Sheelagh kissed her cheek. 'Thank you,' she murmured as she drew back.

Sam smiled and attempted an easy shrug. 'For what?' she asked. 'Night, Sheelagh.'

Holding her gaze for another moment, Sheelagh slipped out of the car. Just as she had the other night, Sam watched her into the house. This time she waited until the door was shut before she manoeuvred the car around and trundled off the nice housing estate. She felt a strange sort of sadness at the family home she was leaving behind, then she berated herself for not knowing that Abi was enough for her. Right now, cordial relations with her daughter were more than she deserved.

When she reached her own home it looked welcoming enough with every light in the place blazing. Dumping her keys on the table beside the door, she went through to the kitchen and found Abi seated at the table with three magazines spread out in front of her and her headphones in. With her presence unnoticed, Sam took a fiendish delight in snatching the headphones out of her daughter's ears in one swift murderous motion.

'Mum!'

She grinned. 'Evening, sweetheart.'

'You could've scared me to death,' Abi complained.

'You're young,' she replied, 'you'll get over it. Anyway,' she went on, gesturing to the magazines, 'since when did I open a beauty salon in my kitchen? Three at once is a bit ambitious.'

'I was comparing and contrasting,' Abi returned.

'Isn't that what you were meant to be doing for your English homework?' Sam questioned with a challenging smile.

Abi stared her out. 'I've done it.'

'Oh, right, great,' she answered. 'Can I see it?'

Growling, Abi's flicked her magazines closed. 'All right, I'll do it. I thought you were at a party tonight anyway.'

'Didn't feel like it,' she said. 'Gave Sheelagh a lift home and decided to torment you instead.'

'I'm honoured,' Abi said, rolling her eyes. 'How is Sheelagh?'

Sam crossed to the fridge, yanking the door opening and searching for something ready to eat. 'Okay, I think.'

'You don't sound sure,' commented Abi.

Turning back to her, Sam said, 'How about you get on with your homework and I'll order a pizza? That sound like a fair trade?'

After hesitating for a moment, Abi nodded and retreated up to her room. Perhaps she'd thought better of interrogating her, something Sam was grateful for. A double-barrelled assault from her astute daughter could possibly be the last straw for her right now.

* * *

The next day Polly Page's arrest was indeed the topic of all station gossip. For the most part people were disbelieving, firmly in Polly's corner. No one seemed to know the role that Sam had played in proceedings, much to her relief, and they were much too busy worrying about Polly's future than wondering which of their colleagues had aided the investigation.

Sam knew that Gina would be visiting Barton Street at some point to suspend Polly. So, before she left for the day, she made a point of seeking her out in the Inspector's Office. Seeing her across the corridor Sheelagh was abruptly at her side. She suspected that Sheelagh had wanted to ask the same question she was about to but hadn't wanted to face Gina alone. Whatever was going on between these two wasn't disappearing and Sam still couldn't shake the feeling it was about Des Taviner.

Glancing at Sheelagh, Sam couldn't help but smile. 'Afternoon,' she said. 'How are you today?'

'I'm all right,' Sheelagh returned. 'What about you?'

Gina cleared her throat. 'You two are aware you're in my office, aren't you?'

Sensing, rather than seeing, Sheelagh stiffen beside her, Sam immediately questioned, 'How did you get on with Polly earlier? How is she?'

'Not good,' Gina admitted. 'You heard they charged her?'

Sam looked to Sheelagh, seeing that she hadn't heard that piece of news either. 'No, I hadn't. Murder or manslaughter?'

'Murder,' Gina said quietly. 'I don't think it's sunk in for her yet. She'll appear in court in the morning.'

'What are the chances of bail?' Sheelagh asked.

'Previous good character and all that,' replied Gina. 'But it's a murder charge so...'

Sighing, Sam nodded then she jumped as Sheelagh squeezed her arm before abruptly returning to her own office and closing the door. Sam watched after her, troubled again but not really knowing why. Finally, she became aware that Gina was studying her.

'What?' she asked.

'I don't know,' Gina retorted. 'You tell me.'

'I wish I could,' she answered. 'I'll see you, Gina.'

Though the expression on her friend's face showed she was anything but satisfied, Sam didn't give her a chance to question her further. She inclined her head politely then returned to her own office to pack up for the night.

* * *

It was heading on for a week before Sam saw Sheelagh again properly and, for a minute, she didn't recognise her. She was following a blonde woman in uniform towards custody and it took her quite a while to realise that she recognised her walk, despite the fact that her hair only just slithered over her shoulders.

Then she called, 'Sheelagh!'

Turning, her friend managed a weak smile. 'Oh, hi.'

'I like the hair,' Sam said. 'Fancied a change, did you?'

'Something like that,' Sheelagh answered, reaching her hand up to her head self-consciously. 'To be honest, I went in there on a whim.'

'Well, it paid off,' she said sincerely.

When she glanced down to the floor, Sheelagh seemed uneasy, whether it was with the genuine compliment or something else. In fact, just from a cursory examination of how Sheelagh looked in the week's interval since their last meeting, Sam felt her concern reignite. She looked ill, there was no denying that.

'Sheelagh?' she asked carefully.

Lifting her head, Sheelagh looked nothing short of panicked and Sam instantly regretted the probing tone. She hadn't meant it to sound as interrogatory as it had, it was just the way she naturally phrased questions sometimes.

'I have to go,' Sheelagh said quickly. 'I'm in the area car today with... I'm in the area car.'

'Okay,' Sam replied, feigning ignorance of her anxiety. 'I'll catch you later.'

The way Sheelagh practically rushed out to the yard was disconcerting, though Sam tried to banish it from her mind. She was still labouring under the impression that Sheelagh would confide in her in her own good time. If that assumption proved incorrect then... Well, she didn't know what would happen then. She was rather hoping it wouldn't come to that.

It was a strange day on the Sun Hill crime front. Apparently there was a man running around Canley with a sword, one of the more peculiar shouts the relief had dealt with – and that was saying something. When Sam passed Sheelagh in the corridor after lunch she saw that her friend was about to walk straight on with just an anxious smile but Sam held out her arm to stop her.

'Hey,' she said, 'you be careful out there this afternoon with this lunatic running around.'

Sheelagh's face softened. 'I will, don't worry.'

'I'm a worrier,' she answered, squeezing Sheelagh's arm before she continued down the corridor without another word.

Drowning under a mountain of paperwork was her fate for the rest of the day. With legal jargon swimming through her brain, she took time out for a coffee late on. Sitting in the canteen, she sent a text to Abi to warn her that she wasn't likely to make it home in time for anything to eat then rested her head back and closed her eyes.

'Guv?' Tony's voice nearly gave her a coronary.

Smiling, she said, 'Sorry, Tone, I was miles away. Everything all right?'

'Well, that's what I was going to ask you,' he said. 'I'm not one for gossip but I know you and Sergeant Murphy are mates. I don't mean to speak out of turn.'

Immediately alert, she leaned forward. 'Why are you talking to me and not Inspector Gold?'

'Well, I don't think Sheelagh would listen to her and I don't want to make it into a drama. Thing is,' he went on, 'she shouldn't be in work if she's not up to it. Maybe it's admitting it to the inspector that's half the problem.'

'Not up to it?' Sam repeated.

'Food poisoning,' he explained. 'She was stood by the car trying not to throw up earlier. I reckon she doesn't want to look weak but if you're ill –'

'There's no shame in that,' Sam agreed.

'Maybe you could talk to her,' he suggested. 'Let her know it's all right to give in. She might accept it from you.'

'Is she still here?' asked Sam, already on her feet.

'Yes, Guv,' he answered with a smile.

She patted his shoulder on the way past. 'Thanks for the heads up, Tone.'

After checking the Sergeants' Office, custody and the locker room, her final port of call was the bathroom. Perhaps, given their habit of accidentally meeting there, she should've saved herself time and poked her head through that door first. As she walked down the corridor she caught sight of June Ackland exiting the bathroom, though, and noted the troubled expression on her face. When Sam then entered herself she was unsurprised to find Sheelagh in there touching up her make-up. No amount of blusher and lipstick could hide the fact that she did indeed look worse than Sam had ever seen her.

'You're not well,' Sam said without preamble.

Sheelagh grimaced as she glanced sideways. 'I'm fine.'

'You're lying,' she answered. 'Do yourself a favour, take a few days off.'

'I don't need to,' Sheelagh said, dumping her lipstick back into her bag.

Sighing, Sam crossed her arms. 'From what I heard, you were lucky not to throw up on duty.'

'Who have you been talking to?' questioned Sheelagh, fresh panic in her voice.

'At least let me give you a lift home,' Sam persisted.

'It's okay,' Sheelagh replied. 'Patrick's picking me up.'

'Okay, that's good. Listen,' she went on after a moment of inner-debate, 'will you promise me something?'

Though she looked anxious about it, Sheelagh questioned, 'What?'

'If you don't feel right tomorrow, stay home.'

'I'll be fine, Sam,' murmured Sheelagh, brushing past her on the way out of the door.

It didn't escape her notice, of course, that Sheelagh hadn't answered the question. Once more, Sam returned to her office with worries about her friend circulating in her mind and, once more, they followed her home.

* * *

By the time she got into work the next morning she'd almost made up her mind to ask Sheelagh outright what was going on. She expected to hear something along the lines of Des harassing her and, perhaps, her succumbing to it, but she had to ask the question. She couldn't assume anything. If she did that then she could safely say that she'd learned nothing from their months of friendship. She'd meant what she'd implied to Sheelagh last week in the car – she didn't expect honesty when she'd been so reticent herself about Glenn. There were reasons for her reticence and she knew there would be equally valid reasons for Sheelagh's reticence and, besides, she was mindful that forcing confidences out of people was a slippery slope. She was caught between wanting to help Sheelagh and wanting to let things flow naturally. In truth, she was worried that pushing her would chisel a chasm between them. If she could help from the sidelines then that was preferable but, as was becoming obvious, Sheelagh needed more than that, even if she didn't accept that fact.

Deliberately going downstairs midmorning, Sam recognised she was looking either for Sheelagh or for some sign she'd relented and called in sick. What she came across was confirmation she hadn't coupled with something interesting in its own right – she saw June Ackland rushing after Sheelagh only to be unceremoniously dismissed in a manner that was nothing like the Sheelagh Murphy Sam was so familiar with. Combined with the troubled look she'd noted on June's face last night, Sam had seen enough evidence to suggest a problem between the two sergeants. Now, officially, it was nothing to do with her, but she'd never been one to stifle her curiosity if she didn't have to.

Striding into step beside June, she questioned, 'Everything all right?'

June jumped out of her skin then threw her a suspicious look. 'Yes, Guv.'

'You haven't seen Sergeant Murphy have you?' she asked.

'Not really, no. Is there anything I can do to help?'

Sam wondered at the lie, so different from the usual demeanour of the woman Gina disparagingly labled 'Saint June', and she also wondered at the friction she'd just witnessed. Both Sheelagh and June were compassionate, conciliatory coppers; for them to disagree on something professional was unlikely, but, then, Sam did get the impression it was more personal than professional.

'No, it's nothing urgent,' she replied with her best attempt at an easy smile. It wouldn't wash with Sheelagh but June was a different prospect. 'Thanks anyway.'

Returning to CID, she dug into her paperwork as much as she could before she was due to leave for a meeting. That one was a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time – Jack had originally been scheduled to attend but she'd been in the room when he'd received a courtesy call about it. On the plus side, it would get her out of the station for most of the day. On the down side, she'd likely be the only woman in a room full of men discussing violence against women. It was going to be an experience, that was for sure.

After a quick sandwich she was heading out of the nick when she finally caught a moment with Sheelagh. It was debatable whether, if Sheelagh had seen the danger coming along the corridor, she wouldn't have just spun around and avoided any conversation. She looked like a rabbit caught in headlights and that was enough to divert Sam from the delicate interrogation she'd set her mind on this morning.

'Don't suppose you could pretend to be me for a few hours, could you?' she asked. 'You're more diplomatic than me. When you smile at bad jokes you look like you mean it.'

Sheelagh's shoulders relaxed a touch. 'Oh, that's practice, that's all.'

'I haven't got time to learn anything else,' Sam remarked. 'Come on, just snarl a few times in the right places and they'll believe you're me.'

'I'd agree with that,' Sheelagh said. 'Have you seen Phil and Debbie in the last half an hour?'

She shook her head. 'Thought they were responding to that report of body parts washing up on the riverbank.'

'They might've been,' answered Sheelagh, 'but they got a little sidetracked. I don't know what they landed in but it was brown and didn't smell particularly fragrant.'

Chuckling, she said, 'Phil was showing off his new suit around the office earlier. What a shame.'

'If you need to conjure up a smile this afternoon, try that image,' Sheelagh advised.

'You're a genius,' Sam told her, checking her watch. 'I've gotta go.'

Sheelagh nodded, more like her old self. 'I'll see you.'

Sam watched down the corridor then shook herself and began walking again, half a smile still on her face from that picture of Phil and Debbie covered in sludge.

The meeting was as mind-numbing as she expected it to be but she survived it with everyone around her believing she was intensely interested. There was a buffet provided afterwards, though she took one bite of a ham sandwich and discreetly stowed it in her pocket before claiming she had dinner plans with her daughter. That gave her the opportunity to slip off from the networking that formed part of the job these days. Usually she could stomach it as a necessary evil but she didn't feel quite settled at the moment and she couldn't bring herself to make small talk with idiots. Fortunately, those benevolent middle-aged men thought the idea of her going home to her teenage daughter was perfectly charming and let her go without much comment.

When she got to work the next morning the atmosphere in CID was flat. Checking her email, she found a report from Jack about an incident involving Eva yesterday. Apparently a suspect had died during arrest and, since it formed part of an investigation about a man being set alight in a racially-motivated attack, Eva's arrest tactics had been called into question. Sam's instincts told her the accusation was false, though she was rather relieved she hadn't been around to deal with it. She'd had quite enough of allegations against colleagues recently, plus she knew that Eva's personal life had been topsy-turvy lately. Paul had moved out after hearing about her fling with a drug dealer, adding separated co-parenting to her long list of things to do. None of that meant she'd assaulted a suspect, of course, but it threw a complex light on it.

Eva was in punctually. Even from her secluded office Sam felt the ripple around the deaprtment that accompanied her arrival. She immediately dropped her pen and went to the doorway.

'Eva,' she said.

Flinching, Eva dumped her bag beside her chair then trudged into the office. 'Yes, Guv?'

Rising, Sam rounded the desk and closed the door. 'How are you bearing up?'

'I'm okay,' she replied after a moment. 'Or I will be. You know it's rubbish, don't you, Guv?'

'Yes,' she said firmly. 'You just have to ride it out. Everybody knows what a good copper you are.'

'Even Phil was being nice to me yesterday,' Eva said with a wry smile. 'That's when I knew it was bad.'

'Well, you're on paperwork for the time being,' Sam continued, 'but you knew that already. And if you run out of things to do let me know.'

Eva snorted as she reached for the door. 'If I do get that desperate, Guv, you'll be the first to know.'

When the door clicked shut, Sam settled back at her desk to deal with her own mountain of paper. Once or twice she considered going downstairs on a pretext and perhaps checking up on Sheelagh but she didn't particularly want her catching her doing that. If Sheelagh was still adamant she was keeping her problems to herself then Sam wanted to allow her the illusion of privacy, even while she worried privately about it.

Late afternoon she had a genuine need to search the station for Ken to pass on an update about one of his cases. After delivering the message she was walking past Gina's office when the inspector called her in.

'Have you got any idea what's going on with Sheelagh?' Gina demanded.

Glancing over her shoulder to check the Sergeants' Office was empty, she stepped inside Gina's office and closed the door. 'What do you mean?' she asked.

'It's like she's had a personality swap with one of her kids,' Gina answered. 'Turning up late, looking lousy, not on the ball. Come on, is there something I need to know?'

'Listen,' she said, 'even if I did know something about Sheelagh's personal life, I couldn't break her confidence just because you're having issues. It's not an operational matter, is it?'

Gina leaned back in her chair. 'You don't know, do you? And it's winding you up something chronic.'

Letting out a uncomfortable chuckle, Sam replied, 'I wouldn't go that far.'

'Oh, I would,' Gina said. 'Do you know that I warned her if I got an inkling of any unprofessional relationships then she'd be out of my nick?'

'No,' Sam admitted, resting against the door. Abruptly, her desire to skirt around the issue disintegrated. 'Look, I haven't got a clue what's going on, Gina, I really haven't. She hasn't confided in me and I haven't pushed it.'

'Why not?' questioned Gina.

She shrugged. 'Because she didn't push me over Abi and Glenn,' she answered. 'Give her time. Whatever's going on, she'll come out of it. Everyone's allowed blips. I'm sure even you have them once in a while.'

'Once in a blue moon,' Gina retorted.

As there was a knock on the door Sam moved away from it. It was Kerry Young who popped her head into the office and said, 'Ma'am, it's all kicking off in custody.'

'Thanks for the bulletin, PC Young,' Gina said. 'I suppose you want a hand.'

Kerry cleared her throat. 'Yes, Ma'am. Sergeant Murphy's doing her nut.'

Gina glanced over and Sam nodded, slipping out of the door and deliberately forcing herself to turn away from custody. Wading in to resolve a uniform issue would hardly convince Sheelagh that Sam believed her claims that she was all right.

That afternoon she was dragged into resolving one of Debbie's problems, leading to her spending far too long trying to get the DS to justify her decision-making before eventually giving up and just charming the offended victim instead. She was lucky it was a man on the other end of the phone; her track record at charming women was woeful in comparison. Then, late in the day, there were stirrings in CID that brought her from her office in irritation.

'Mickey,' she said as he toppled his chair over, 'would you kindly tell me what the hell's going on?'

'Trust me, Guv,' he snapped, 'you don't wanna know.'

'If that was the case I wouldn't be asking, would I?' she returned.

Taking a few long breaths, he managed to calm himself down. Pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes, he muttered, 'I've got a psychopath making threats against me and the idiots in custody have just let him walk out of the door by accident.'

'What?' she asked. Then, remembering exactly who had been in charge of custody the last she knew, she steadied her voice. 'What happened?'

'Does it matter?' he retorted sharply.

When he kicked a chair, she warned, 'Go home and cool off. You can go after this fella in the morning.'

'Yeah, if I've still got a job in the morning.' He aimed his foot at the desk.

'Oi,' she said, 'you won't have if you keep assaulting the furniture. I don't know what's going on, Mickey, but you need to calm down, do you hear me?'

'Yes, Guv,' he murmured. 'Sorry, Guv. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow.'

She watched him out of the office then, as an afterthought, went to the window to make sure he left the premises before returning to her own office. While her instinct might be to go downstairs and find out what was going on, she knew that was the wrong move. She'd have to wait for either Sheelagh or Gina to come to her, though she suspected it wouldn't take too long for that to occur and she was right.

As CID gradually quietened, Sam's concentration returned and she made a dent in her inbox, managing to decline several meetings that she had absolutely no interest in with very little compunction. Then she felt a shift in the atmosphere and put her pen down. Looking up, she found Sheelagh leaning against the door frame, recent tears scrubbed from her face.

'How long have you been standing there?' Sam asked.

'I didn't want to interrupt,' Sheelagh replied. 'I didn't know how welcome I'd be.'

Sam shook her head and indicated for her to sit down. 'How are you doing?'

'Please don't be nice to me,' murmured Sheelagh.

'Well, I'm assuming it was an honest mistake,' Sam said. 'I can't see it being anything else.'

'That doesn't make it any better, does it?' Sheelagh paused then questioned, 'How's Mickey?'

'Angry but he'll get over it. What happened down there?' she asked after a moment. 'I know it's been a bit chaotic all day.'

Sheelagh massaged her forehead. 'That's one word for it. People were battering each other. We had a group of yobs brought in all at once and they got heated. I asked one of the PCs to release a prisoner for me and somehow Delaney was released instead. I don't know how it happened,' she went on, 'but it's my responsibility. I was the custody sergeant, I was in charge.'

'And taking responsibility is what separates good officers from bad ones,' Sam said. 'Everyone makes mistakes. Even me,' she added with a smile. 'If you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it until my dying breath.'

'If this was your case you'd hit the roof,' Sheelagh pointed out.

'You're probably right,' answered Sam. 'But it wasn't so you're safe.'

'Mickey's one of your team,' persisted Sheelagh.

Sam shrugged. 'I'll back him in a public forum, of course I will, the same way Gina'll back you.'

Nodding, Sheelagh lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Then she attempted a watery smile. 'I should get home.'

'Need a lift?' asked Sam.

'Thanks but I've got the car.' Standing, she hesitated in the doorway. 'Thanks.'

Watching her go, Sam couldn't help but think that what happened in custody earlier was symptomatic of what was going on with Sheelagh more generally. She wondered if perhaps Des had been down there, contributing to the chaos, though she could hardly go and ask Gina if that was the case. They might both know there was something between Sheelagh and Des but openly discussing it was another thing entirely.

The next day came around too quickly for Sam's liking. She found it difficult to get moving, however much she usually enjoyed walking into CID as Acting Detective Inspector. Now she was within weeks of passing her final exams she had high hopes that she could make that title permanent soon, though she wasn't going to share that hope with anyone just yet.

Eva was still restricted to paperwork, much to her irritation. Sam checked on her a few times in the morning then went downstairs at lunchtime to grab a sandwich and a coffee. As an afterthought, she bought a bar of chocolate and made sure to drop into the Sergeants' Office on the way back upstairs. The door and blinds were closed and she hesitated, wondering if that was Sheelagh's way of signalling she didn't want to talk to anyone. Then her selfish streak took over and she knocked on the door before pushing it open. Sheelagh's head snapped up, though she relaxed slightly on seeing her.

She held up the bar of chocolate. 'I can give you this and go away if you'd prefer.'

Smiling weakly, Sheelagh gestured for her to come inside. 'I'm sorry, I just wasn't feeling very sociable. Not that I'm getting much work done either.'

'Are you okay?' Sam questioned carefully.

'Have they caught that prisoner yet?' Sheelagh retorted.

'Not as yet,' she admitted. 'I know Mickey's been in and out most of the day. He's reporting directly to the DCI, I'm out of the loop.'

'You don't seem too bothered about that,' observed Sheelagh.

'Honestly?' She shrugged. 'I'm not. Did Gina give you any indication how long the investigation might take?'

'Not really, you know what it's like.'

'Just let it take its course,' Sam said. 'It was an error, nothing more. Anyway,' she went on briskly, 'I'll leave you be.'

'You're taking the chocolate,' Sheelagh said quickly.

Chuckling, she handed it over. 'Another honest mistake. Enjoy.'

'Thanks, Sam.'

As she slipped out of the office, she caught sight of Gina watching her from across the corridor. Perturbed, but not really knowing why, she turned and headed back up to CID, mentally recounting all the work she had to do. And a day of work was going to be followed by a night of exam revision – that wasn't going to go down at all well with Abi, especially if she didn't tell her what she was doing.


	11. Chapter 11

Sheelagh at least knew what she was trying to do, though she also knew her logic was broken somewhat. Ignoring the spectre of the baby looming large on the horizon had become steadily more difficult over the last couple of weeks. It wasn't just that physically she felt different. Sure, the morning sickness had taken its toll and if any of the constables under her command ever tried to pull a stunt like keeping their pregnancy secret she'd come down on them like a ton of bricks. She knew she should tell Inspector Gold the truth but, really, the prospect of being grounded at the station was more than she could bear. She was having enough difficulty dealing with temporary restrictions on movement thanks to accidentally releasing Martin Delaney the other day. The fact that they hadn't yet caught the man was making her nervous as well. He was a real psycho from what she'd heard and she wasn't sure how she'd be able to forgive herself if he hurt somebody else. She knew that it wasn't completely her fault but she also knew that in her head it didn't work like that – she liked to take responsibility for her actions, even if she wasn't exactly doing a good job of that across the board at the moment.

Putting off telling Patrick about the baby was cowardly of her. As soon as she'd done the maths she'd realised he couldn't possibly be the father. Hiding away from that reality was the only thing she could think of to do. Des didn't want her – even if she had any notions about setting up a life with him – and she couldn't expect Patrick to knowingly raise another man's child. It would be a betrayal of their marriage, a betrayal of her love for him. It was only recently that she'd become aware how much that love had faded but that still didn't excuse what she'd done, nor did it discount their twenty-three years together. Once she accepted the baby into her mind she'd be forced to tell Patrick the truth. That was why she was living one day at a time and trying to avoid the inevitable. That was also why she'd refused to confide in anyone who might force her hand.

Admitting to June that she was pregnant – and then that the baby might not be Patrick's – was stupid of her, but it was still a relatively safe way of unburdening herself, even if June had accidentally clued Patrick in on the fact that he was going to be a father for the fourth time, much to his delight. Unlike Gina, June couldn't put her on restricted duties. Sure, she might threaten to reveal her pregnancy but Sheelagh hoped she could deflect for some time yet. The reasons she didn't want to tell Patrick, Des and Gina were clear-cut – she couldn't say the same about her impulse to keep Sam in the dark.

The last few weeks had been difficult. She'd almost admitted the truth on several occasions, most notably when Sam had given her a lift home after Polly's arrest. It had been the close proximity, the intimacy of the car in the darkness, not to mention the absurdity of ABBA accompanying them through Canley. In that moment she could almost have said it, but the moment was lost. However, Sam's words before she left the car had touched her more than she could say. By reminding her that she'd only lied about Glenn because she wasn't ready to admit the truth she'd tacitly offered her forgiveness for whatever Sheelagh was keeping from her and promising to be there when she was finally ready. It was a mark of how hard Sam was trying to maintain their friendship that she wasn't pressing the issue. Part of Sheelagh wished she would, though she didn't know how she'd react to any sustained questioning. She was feeling so unsettled lately that it was most likely her hormones would take over and she'd end up losing the woman who had unexpectedly become her most valued friend. That was another reason for keeping quiet, however much like a pressure-cooker she was feeling these days.

It had been two days since the accidental release of Martin Delaney and today Sheelagh was posted on the front desk. Interacting with the members of the public who came into reception was taxing to the extreme in her current state. More than once she actually thought she'd throw up on someone but the feeling passed, usually when the member of the public themselves actually walked out of the door. She thought herself a very calm and reasoned person as a rule – the pregnancy was playing havoc with her reactions as much as anything else.

Mid-morning, a new face dropped his elbows on the front desk. He was black, a little stocky, the kind of eyes that could undress you from a mile off. Her stomach somersaulted again as she realised that the reason she recognised the traits so rapidly was because they reminded her of Des.

'Well, hello,' the new arrival said. 'And who might you be?'

She sighed. 'I think that's my line, sir. What can I do for you?'

'Quite a lot, I'd imagine.' Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a warrant card. 'DC Rob Thatcher, it's my first day.'

'Ah, nice to meet you,' she said. 'How are you settling in?'

He scratched his neck. 'I'm seeing lots of plus sides.'

'I bet.' She paused. 'Was there something specific you wanted?'

'Oh, erm, I forgot the door code,' he answered. 'Could you let me back in?'

After compiling, she shuddered and mentally tried to cleanse herself following a few moments under his inspection. Around twenty minutes later she received a piece of evidence to be passed on to Samantha Nixon. Recognising it would easier to run it up there herself, she left the desk for five minutes and went up to CID. DC Thatcher's eyes lit up and she grimaced as she walked straight past him and through Sam's open doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that his eyes had followed her in here so she unceremoniously shut the door, much to Sam's bemusement.

'Problem?' she asked, dropping her pen.

Sheelagh indicated over her shoulder. 'The new guy's a bit full-on, isn't he?'

Chuckling, Sam replied, 'Oh, you've met, have you? Yeah, he's always thought of himself as a bit of a womanizer.'

'You know him then?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam glanced down at her desk, a red glow creeping over her cheeks. 'He used to be my DS before he got himself into a bit of trouble. He's...an acquired taste. If there's a job to be done he'll get someone else to do it for him and if you ever accept a report from it, check he hasn't mixed the suspect up with the victim.'

Sheelagh couldn't suppress her snort, though she was wondering about the obvious undertone here. She could safely assume there'd been something between the two of them in the past, even if she doubted it had been anything serious from either perspective. Sam had once told her that her relationships had only ever been casual and it was something she believed without hesitation. The way Sam kept herself aloof from everyone else was palpable. Sheelagh counted herself as one of the lucky few, despite the fact that being in Samantha Nixon's confidence was a minefield sometimes.

'This came for you,' Sheelagh said, suddenly remembering why she'd come upstairs and handing the envelope across. 'Thought you might want it straight away.'

'You're a star, thank you,' answered Sam. 'I've been expecting this.'

Sheelagh smiled and braced herself to pass through the main office again. 'I'd better get back to the front desk,' she said.

Sam just nodded and Sheelagh ran the gauntlet of the new DC's appraising gaze to make her way downstairs again. Once there she was faced with the same eclectic mix of the public that she'd been subjected to all morning. It was hardly getting any easier. One of the perils of declaring her pregnancy to Inspector Gold was that she was going to be put on the front desk for the next five months – she wasn't sure she could handle that without going mad. She was already petrified that Des would take the opportunity to torment her on here – it was lucky he'd been out of the station so far today and was hopefully going to remain in the area car for the foreseeable future.

A little while later she noticed Sam and Rob on their way out of the station. Seeing her, Sam doubled back and leaned against the desk.

'Do you want a laugh?' she questioned.

Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'What have you done this time?'

'Oi,' Sam replied with a good-natured smile. 'I had Phil in my office earlier, ranting about Rob. He was complaining about how irritating and smug he is. When I had the temerity to ask whether that reminded him of anyone, he answered that he was always professional. I'm just wondering if the four horsemen of the apocalypse rode through here when I wasn't looking.'

Though it was tricky, Sheelagh tried to suppress her amusement. 'I might've mistaken them, we've had a few drunks in here already today.'

Grinning, Sam briefly squeezed her arm then followed DC Thatcher outside. Sheelagh watched the interaction between them with interest before they disappeared out of sight and she was forced to pay more attention to her paperwork than she would've liked.

After a few more hours on the front desk she was granted the reprieve of time in her office to actually focus on the files she'd been trying to work on for most of the day. It was from the vantage point of her desk that she saw Sam fly past the window from the direction of custody, her hand clapped over her mouth.

Immediately, Sheelagh rose and followed the figure to the logical conclusion of the bathroom. She found Sam leaning over the sink looking thoroughly green. Approaching her, Sheelagh rested a hand on her lower back.

'Hey,' she murmured, 'are you okay?'

Sam took a long breath and glanced over her shoulder. 'I'm sorry. I managed to hold it together until we got back to the nick but...' Once more, she pressed her hand to her mouth then mastered her nausea and lowered it. 'What is it with people chopping up bodies lately? I mean, we had that med student stealing body parts from the hospital and throwing them in the river.'

'And posting them to people,' Sheelagh replied with a grimace. 'I had one delivered here in a holdall.' When Sam turned a funny colour again, she went on, 'Sorry, that wasn't helpful. What happened?'

'We found an ice box in a ventilation shaft containing a severed head and hands,' Sam said. 'They threw the rest of the body in the river but they wanted to avoid identification.'

Sheelagh grimaced and rubbed circles on her spine. 'I dread to think how many bodies are floating around that riverbed. Are you going to be okay?'

Nodding, Sam murmured, 'I just needed a minute. I didn't want to throw up in CID, not with Phil watching my every move.'

'Fair enough,' Sheelagh answered. As Sam straightened up, she let her hand drop to her side. 'Nice to see the reminder that you're human though,' she added to lighten the mood.

'Don't get used to it,' Sam warned, that old warmth returning to her eyes. 'I'd better go remind Rob that he has to actually write this up, whether he likes it or not.'

'I'll see you,' Sheelagh said softly.

Sam pressed their hands together as she left then the door swung closed and Sheelagh abruptly felt alone again. It was funny that when she was with Sam she forgot the fact that she was three months pregnant with Des's child. She missed the ease that their conversations inspired in her, though she recognised there was still an edge to them that came from her dishonesty. At some point in the future that would have to be remedied, even if she still couldn't picture it happening.

That night was a strange one. Patrick was in one of his rare quiet moods and, for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he might have some inkling of what she was keeping from him. It didn't take her long to realise it was just typical Patrick stuff – he sometimes got this way and she was best just leaving him to emerge by himself. At least the kids were at the age where they didn't really notice because they were in their rooms doing the same thing. It gave her quite a bit of time to sit and think and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment so the night turned out to be a difficult one all round.

The next morning she was posted on the front desk again. She was mildly irritated about it but the public seemed inclined to give Sun Hill a wide berth today. The number of drunks and irate victims who passed through the doors seemed less than average so it gave her time to concentrate on her paperwork – or, rather, Smithy's paperwork since he seemed to be making the most of her being restricted to the station.

Not long after ten o'clock the door to the corridor opened and Sam walked in looking more pensive than Sheelagh had seen her since she'd investigated Polly Page. Instantly alert, she crossed to meet her.

'What's going on?' she asked. 'Are you okay?'

Sam glanced around then guided her to the back of the office, well out of earshot from anybody hovering around the desk.

'As far as confidentiality goes, this is breaking every rule,' Sam said. 'I could lose my job for telling you this.'

Sheelagh gripped her fingers. 'For what? What's wrong?'

Sam brought her free hand up to massage her forehead. 'I thought you had a right to know. If it all comes out – and these things usually do – I don't want you blindsided.'

'You're scaring me now,' Sheelagh said.

Sighing, Sam muttered, 'Mickey caught up with Martin Delaney the other day. Or, rather, Delaney caught up with him. He lured Mickey into a trap and...and he raped him.'

Sheelagh's hand shot up to her mouth. 'No...'

'I know,' said Sam, squeezing her fingers until they went numb. 'It isn't your fault, Sheelagh. I need you to believe that.'

'I let that animal back out on the streets,' she answered. Her stomach was swirling again, a horrible combination of morning sickness and guilt that made her lean almost imperceptibly towards Sam.

'That doesn't make you responsible for what he did,' Sam replied.

'You wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't blame me,' Sheelagh pointed out.

Sam shook her head and stepped closer. 'The reason I'm telling you is because I know you'll blame yourself. I wanted to give you time to acclimatise to the news before it's out there for public consumption.'

Studying her face, Sheelagh believed that in an instant. 'Thank you.' She hesitated. 'How's Mickey?'

'Refusing to report it,' Sam said, 'though I suppose that's understandable. We've got enough on Delaney when we get hold of him but that's not the point.'

'You're angry,' Sheelagh murmured.

'Damn right I am,' returned Sam with a grim smile. 'Not at you though, I promise you that. Mickey's one of the best coppers I've got up there. He might go off on his own and report to the DCI instead of me but... He's got a good heart and he's in the job for the right reasons. You can't say that about everyone,' she added.

Sheelagh was watching her carefully. 'Sam...'

Catching her tone, she shook her head and drew herself up. 'I need to have a look at Delaney's profile, see what we're missing. I'll talk to you later, okay?'

'Okay,' she said, squeezing her hand again before she released it. 'Thank you.'

Sam waved that away then slipped out of the front office with her eyes lowered. Left alone, Sheelagh slumped back against the cupboard. Actions and unforeseen consequences – wasn't that the story of her life at the moment? Taking responsibility for the accidental release of Delaney naturally led on to her taking some responsibility for what he'd since done. She could hardly imagine what Mickey was going through and, truth be told, she tried to push it from her mind for her own comfort. She recognised one thing clearly at the moment – the level of stress she was putting herself under, keeping secrets from nearly everyone in her life, wasn't healthy for her and it certainly wasn't healthy for the baby. It hadn't asked for any of this and it was her duty to look after it. Patrick already thought she was on restricted duties and the chances of him dropping in one day to check on her were high. It was a powder-keg and she was petrified.

'Hello?'

Sheelagh jumped and looked to the desk. A well-dressed woman was smiling across at her. 'I'm sorry,' she said as she walked over, 'I was miles away. What can I do for you?'

'I'm Sally Johnson,' the woman answered. 'I was hoping to speak to DC Danny Glaze.'

'I'll run up and get him for you,' Sheelagh said, grateful for the prospect of a temporary change of scene. 'I'll be right back.'

When she reached CSU she found Sam on her way out of the doors. Though she didn't speak, Sam threw her one of the smiles that Sheelagh had quickly discovered she bestowed on no one else in the station then kept walking.

To her irritation, Danny wasn't interested in speaking to Sally Johnson. In fact, he was actively going out of his way to avoid it. He insisted on joining Jim on a case, leading Sheelagh to return downstairs and admit to Sally Johnson that Danny wasn't in the station. It wasn't a complete lie but it was a version of the truth. However, Sheelagh thought to herself as Sally Johnson took up root in reception, she was getting very good at spinning versions of the truth these days.

As the day wore on, Sally Johnson steadfastly refused to move. She occasionally stepped outside to take a call but she always left her jacket or her bag as a sign that she was coming back. Sheelagh was curious about what she wanted with Danny but, despite her questions, Sally was reticent about details. Instead, she politely ducked her head into the files she'd brought with her and pretended to be reading, though Sheelagh didn't buy the pretence for a moment.

Eventually, Reg came in to deliver a report to her. Mindful that the front office was hardly the best place for a professional discussion, she beckoned him to the back of the office and they were deep in conversation when a row kicked off on the other side of the desk. To Sheelagh's astonishment, it was Des arguing with Sally Johnson.

'This is harassment,' he spat. 'See this woman out here?' he went on to the office at large. 'She used to be a police officer. You know what she does now?'

Sheelagh glanced to Reg and questioned, 'What's going on?

'Don't know,' he answered.

'She does the dirty on the people she used to work with,' Des continued.

Sally stared him out. 'I'd really like to talk to you.'

'What's your problem?' Des demanded.

'I just want fifteen minutes of your time,' Sally replied.

'Simpson killed seven police officers,' Des said. 'You knew some of them.'

Sighing, Sally said, 'I think it'd be better if we did this in private, don't you?'

'Better for who?' he asked. 'He's already killed seven people. The only thing that makes it easier is the fact that he got sent down for it. And you are trying to get him off,' he concluded, the fury practically steaming out of his ears.

Without Sheelagh realising, Reg had slipped out of the door and into the public area. 'You'd better go,' he said to Sally.

She ignored him, focused instead on Des. 'You sure you wanna do this here?' she questioned.

'I'll do this any place you want, love,' he retorted.

Reg cleared his throat. 'Do you have an appointment?'

'What?' Politely, he took hold of her arm. 'Reg!'

'Look,' Reg answered, 'I believe you've already spoken to the superintendent and he has told you you're not welcome. Now – you're not welcome.'

With that, Sally was finally persuaded to leave. She stomped outside and Sheelagh rested her hands on the desk as Des and Reg turned to face her.

'You ought to report her,' she said.

'She's not worth it,' Des answered, though there was an expression on his face she couldn't pinpoint.

Even after he'd barged his way back into the station, the look on his face haunted Sheelagh. She couldn't explain why; it just seemed so different to what she was used to from Des Taviner. It was raw, hollow even. It reminded her of the honesty she thought she'd found in his face after they'd spent the night together. Not much could bring out that side of Des and she was surprised to realise she was worried about him.

After a morning on the front desk she was tasked to custody for the afternoon by a harried Inspector Gold as she rushed off to a meeting at the Yard. It was there that she heard that Martin Delaney had been caught and was on his way to the nick.

From the conversation she heard when Smithy, Des and Reg brought Delaney in, she understood that the secret about Mickey was out.

'It is, isn't it? He raped him,' Des said.

Smithy spun angrily around. 'Why don't you get on the tannoy, eh, you idiot?'

Sheelagh felt strangely distant from her surroundings, as though every nerve in her body was numb apart from her stomach. The baby was suddenly the only thing she could feel.

The back door swung open and Jack entered with Mickey. They walked straight past the desk, Mickey's head bowed.

'Poor bloke,' Reg muttered.

As a wave of pain washed over her, Sheelagh's body involuntarily contracted. It was the baby, she knew it was the baby. It felt as though it was clawing to get loose from her and why wouldn't it?

Reg rushed around the desk and put an arm around her. 'Sarge?' he questioned. 'Here you are, come here, sit down.' As he placed a stool underneath her, she almost fell onto it. 'You're all right,' he soothed then he glanced to a nearby constable. 'Get her a glass of water please. You're all right, love,' he added, turning his attention back to her.

The pain didn't subside after a few minutes and Reg insisted on calling an ambulance. Sheelagh was just grateful that Gina was far from the station – the last thing she needed was an interrogation while she was this scared. Similarly, wherever Sam was, she was at least unlikely to hear of this – for now. Throughout all the commotion, Des just stood in the corner, arms crossed, anxiety etched on his face.

When the ambulance arrived the paramedics put her on a stretcher as a precaution, despite her protests. In truth, she was worried enough to allow it even if she did protest as a convoluted attempt to prove to herself that she wasn't worried.

As the paramedics carried her to the ambulance, Des followed alongside. 'You all right?' he asked.

'I'm okay, Des,' she said.

'I'm coming with you,' he returned.

'No,' she said firmly.

His brow creased. 'Why not?'

'Because you've got a job to do and I'm fine by myself,' she answered.

'I wanna know what's up with you,' he insisted.

'It's over, Des,' she told him. 'I'm not your concern anymore. Understand?'

As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance she closed her eyes in order to ignore his presence. A few more minutes of sustained questioning and she'd crack. It was bad enough that she was going to have to call Patrick from the hospital and face his distress. She couldn't cope with any pressure from Des on top of that.

* * *

It was as she suspected with Patrick. He was frantic and attentive, rushing to her side mid-shift and quizzing the doctor on her condition in extensive detail, asking the same questions over and over again. It would've been endearing had the gnawing guilt not resurfaced with a vengeance the moment her senses returned. She was relieved the baby was okay, of course she was; though an undeniable portion of her wished that it was over, that the baby was gone and that her life was less complicated. She hated herself for that thought as soon as it passed through her mind and she spent the next hour or so trying to atone for it by imagining how well she was going to look after her new son or daughter.

Patrick went downstairs for another chat with the doctor – despite her warnings for him to leave it be – and when he returned he wasn't alone. To her horror, Des accompanied him. She only had a few seconds to acclimatise herself to the idea and then she tried to smile at her husband because she knew he expected it.

Des asked the polite questions about her condition, though his unease was evident. She knew him well enough to feel the storm brewing and she looked first to her empty cup then to Patrick: 'Erm, could you get us a glass?' she asked.

'Sure,' he said in his usual way then glanced across the bed. 'Des?'

'I'm okay,' he replied.

When Patrick moved to the water fountain to refill the jug Sheelagh looked hesitantly up at Des. The hollow expression on his face was similar to this morning when he'd confronted Sally Johnson – it was fear, she realised with a jolt.

'So you're pregnant?' he questioned and she exhaled. 'Well, how pregnant are you?' he pressed.

Patrick had been ridiculously rapid with the water. Before she could answer Des – even if she knew how to – he was back at her side, ever the attentive husband. In front of Des it was positively tortuous.

'Thanks,' she said.

'I'm gonna be a father again,' Patrick said to Des with a childish grin. 'I can hardly believe it.'

Pouring the water, he passed it to her carefully. She took it, attempting to smile, and murmured, 'Thanks.'

Des lingered only as long as was polite. He was obviously shell-shocked, his mind clicking through numerous gears and trying to work out the likelihood of his being the father. Part of her was relieved that Patrick was surgically attached to her side – dealing with any of Des's questions right now was far from the top of her wish list.

After Des sped off Patrick was full of plans and excitement. It seemed the idea of the baby hadn't been real to him until they'd nearly lost it. That, of course, made things ten times worse for her. But, the flip side of Patrick realising the baby was real was that she did too. The doctors declared her fit to go home and she was worried, genuinely worried, about the safety of her unborn child. Now, whether the future was going to be complicated or not, she had to admit that she was going to give birth in a few months and that baby was going to be hers. A living, breathing baby; a beautiful boy or girl. How they'd got to this point wasn't important – the fact that she was growing a new life inside of her was.

Patrick was, quite naturally, anxious about her returning to work the next day. However, she was determined to carry on as normal. It wasn't only that she didn't want Des alone in the station, possibly talking himself into coming round to the house and demanding to know who the father of her baby was. It wasn't just that, though she admitted it was a factor. No, it was the prospect of people finding out and asking questions. Sure, people might know that she'd been taken to hospital but they were less likely to gossip if she was around. Besides, Gina had been absent from the station yesterday afternoon and she was off today – that made it unlikely she'd heard of the emergency. That, in turn, made it unlikely that Sam had. Even now, Sheelagh's instinct was to keep the truth from Samantha. While she knew that people had made the connection between them – that people knew of their friendship – she suspected it was unlikely that someone would dare go to DI Samantha Nixon and spread station gossip about one of the sergeants being rushed to hospital, especially when that sergeant was back in work as normal as ever.

In truth, Sheelagh didn't feel very normal. She was running on autopilot, thankful that she'd received an email first thing to tell her that she was absolved of responsibility for the Delaney mistake and so she could take calls outside of the station again. That didn't absolve her guilt, of course, but part of the problem yesterday was that she let that overtake her. Coupled with the gnawing shame she felt because of the baby, her blood pressure had apparently risen to worrying levels. She needed to keep calm and that meant distracting herself from her mistakes both personal and professional.

That proved difficult. Tasked as Duty Sergeant for the day, she had to respond to a couple of incidents in the front office then she was heading back to her own office when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

'Sarge,' Des called. Reluctantly, she glanced over her shoulder as he caught up with her. 'About that stolen car,' he said. 'The keys were taken from inside the house.'

Sheelagh stepped over the threshold, dismayed that he followed her but unwilling to talk to him in a public setting anyway. 'So if it's a burglary then it's CID,' she said.

'Yeah, but there's no sign of a forced entry.' Looking along the corridor, he shut the door then turned back and questioned, 'Should you be in work in your condition?'

'I'm pregnant,' she replied. 'I'm not sick. They said I'd be fine.'

'You told me you weren't sleeping with your husband,' he said.

Grimacing, she muttered, 'I don't wanna discuss this.'

'Well, if you weren't sleeping with him how can you be pregnant by him?' Des persisted.

'I know you've got work to do,' Sheelagh told him. 'I suggest you go and do it.'

'How do you think I felt, eh?' he demanded. 'Standing next to him, congratulating him on the fact that he got you pregnant, while all the time in my head I've got this little voice telling me that the baby might just be mine.'

Sheelagh managed to look at him briefly then dragged her gaze away. If she met his eye she knew she'd crack and admit the truth. Mustering her energy, she walked straight past him and took off down the corridor. She heard him on her heels then DCI Meadows called him back and Sheelagh found herself free.

Whatever the DCI had wanted with Des, it at least kept him from pursuing her again for a while. She had to conduct a performance review with Nick, something she went into a little distracted. Realising she was bombarding him with perfunctory questions, she made a deliberate effort to slow herself down. She liked Nick and she wanted him to succeed back at Sun Hill, however hard that was going to be all round.

When she asked if he'd been tempted by anything in particular, he replied, 'I'm an addict, Sarge. An addict doesn't need particular circumstances.'

She smiled as she perched on the edge of her desk. 'You sound like you've swallowed the pamphlet,' she said. 'As far as you're concerned, you're back in the thick of it, doing your job, business as usual.'

'Yes, Sarge,' he said. 'I think I'm pulling my weight.'

Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'If anything, you're pulling more than your weight.'

He glanced at her uncertainly. 'Sarge?'

'You've taken a very...muscular approach,' she explained. 'You get stuck in, more than you used to and that's certainly one way to do the job. On the other hand, you can lose empathy by going that way.'

'I don't think that's very fair, Sarge,' Nick answered.

Rising, Sheelagh rounded her desk. 'It's a fine balance, isn't it?' she asked. 'Staying human in this job. And that's a side to you I'd like to see a bit more of, Nick.'

Slowly, he nodded. The rest of the meeting was an exercise in box-ticking, checking what incidents Nick had felt uncomfortable dealing with since his return. While some sergeants would just go through the motions of asking the questions, Sheelagh was more interested in monitoring his reaction to them. She'd been fooled into think PC Klein was okay in the past and she wasn't going to make that mistake again. However, by the end of the interview she was convinced that he was telling her the truth. Her judgement might've been skewed lately but she trusted her instincts on this one.

Discovering that Des was out of the station with Kerry in the area car all afternoon meant she could breathe a little easier. Then she received a call to attend an incident as Duty Sergeant where a baby had been rushed to hospital after he stopped breathing.

She was forced to steady herself on the filing cabinet before she could bring herself to leave the office. This was exactly the kind of incident June had warned her about, the kind she'd naively thought wouldn't occur. Pushing things to the back of her mind had been her silly way of dealing with things lately and now she was caught in difficult situation. Inspector Gold wasn't in – not that Sheelagh thought she was ready for that conversation – and Des had responded to the initial call at the Jameson residence. Not only was she going to have to deal with desperate parents, she was going to have to do it while Des watched. She might as well put herself under a microscope and have done with it.

As she drove to the Jameson house she tried her best to distance herself from the situation. Other officers managed this type of call without letting it get to them, even other mothers. What had she said to Nick earlier about the danger of losing empathy? At the moment she was trying to drive empathy from her mind or she doubted she'd get through this and be any use to the family or her colleagues.

When she arrived at the house she caught Des watching for her out of the window, a troubled expression on his face. He pulled the door open before she had chance to knock and she stepped over the threshold with her hat tucked under her arm.

'Where's Kerry?' she questioned.

'She's upstairs with the mother,' he answered, closing the door softly. 'Should you be doing this?' he asked as she made for the stairs.

Nettled, she turned back. 'Doing what, Des?'

'This type of call in your condition,' he explained.

'My condition is my business,' she snapped. 'The sooner you get that into your head the better.' Behind her, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and glanced over her shoulder to check Kerry hadn't inferred anything from what she'd overheard. 'Right,' she went on briskly, 'so it's father and baby at the hospital and the mother's here, yeah?'

'Father didn't want the mother to go,' Des muttered.

'Why not?' she queried with a frown.

'Well, I don't know,' he replied. 'I suppose sometimes one partner wants to shut the other out.'

Sheelagh shifted her weight, aware of Kerry's presence and not eager to add more fuel to the PC's penchant for gossip. Any awkward questions were lost as Dean radioed in from CAD asking Des if he was okay to talk. With a glance up the stairs, he relocated to the kitchen, Kerry and Sheelagh following him. Anxiety percolated in her stomach as she watched Des fiddle with his radio.

'Okay,' he said, 'you can talk now.'

'Bad news, sorry,' Dean reported. 'The baby arrived at St. Hughes life extinct. We just heard. Over.'

The news rippled through Sheelagh's body, settling in the pit of her stomach. As the senior officer on the scene, she was the one who had to inform the mother.

'Received,' Des murmured.

Sheelagh reached forward and touched his arm, feeling him tremble. Then she said, 'I'd best go and tell the mother.'

Turning, she went through the lounge and slowly climbed the stairs. She felt Kerry on her heels, hardly rushing her up though she felt under pressure. Swallowing, she located the mother in her bedroom, folding washing very methodically and without much emotion on her face.

'Mrs Jameson?' Sheelagh said carefully. She'd learned from experience it was better to get the news out quickly, rather than prolong the pain. 'I'm very sorry to tell you your little boy has died,' she went on in as measured a voice as she could muster.

There wasn't so much as a moment of pause nor a flicker of emotion as Mrs Jameson tried to squeeze out of the room. 'Excuse me,' she said.

'You might want to sit down for a minute,' Sheelagh told her, blocking her path.

'Excuse me,' Mrs Jameson repeated as she pushed past them.

Sheelagh exchanged a look with Kerry. Gesturing to the constable to stay put, Sheelagh followed Mrs Jameson next door into the nursery, sighing as she saw her start to gather up the bedclothes in the cot.

'Not now, Mrs Jameson,' Sheelagh tried.

'I should clean it up,' she muttered.

Sheelagh reached out then let her hand fall back. 'Let me do that.'

'No, I've got to.'

'Leave it, Mrs Jameson, please,' Sheelagh returned firmly. The tone of her voice, plus the hand on her arm, made the woman halt suddenly. It was almost robotic. 'Was he in here?' she questioned.

Mrs Jameson blinked. 'Yes.'

'Did you find him?' persisted Sheelagh gently.

'Yes,' she murmured.

Sensing the lull in Mrs Jameson's momentum, Sheelagh stretched her arm around her shoulders and led her out of the nursery. 'Why don't you come next door and sit down? Come on.' She manoeuvred her past Kerry and sat her down next down. 'I'll leave you for a minute,' she said gently. 'Get you some water.' Stepping out on the landing, she motioned Kerry well out of earshot and warned, 'Don't let her back in the baby's room. She can't clean it up. We need to preserve the scene.'

Kerry nodded. 'Sarge.'

'Okay,' Sheelagh murmured as she started down the staircase and reached for her radio. 'Sierra Oscar from 66, receiving, over.'

'Go ahead, 66,' Dean said.

'I'm at the call at Welling Drive with Des and Kerry,' she said. 'We need the DI down here. Tell her we've got a sudden infant death, over.'

'I've done it already, over,' he answered.

She managed a smile to prove she could, though he couldn't see it. 'Thanks, Dean, good lad.'

Glancing up at the ceiling, she tried to combat the swirling sensation in her stomach. The fact that Sam was going to arrive shortly was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she needed the strength and support of Samantha Nixon, not just as a senior officer in this case but also as a friendly face that she could trust. She was aware that not everyone shared her point of view on that but she trusted Sam to deal with this sensitively, as only another mother probably could. However, Sheelagh was aware of just how hard this case had hit her. Resting her hands on her stomach, she tried to control her urge to flee the Jameson house. There was a good chance – more than a chance – that Sam would see all this. She knew Sam saw a lot more than she ever commented on; she absorbed everything and stored it away. Sheelagh was waiting for the inevitable day when all her observations spilled out, though she sincerely hoped it wouldn't be today.

'Sheelagh?' Des said quietly, coming back into the living room.

She jumped then plastered on a mask for his benefit. 'Right,' she said briskly, 'I want you and Kerry to go back at the station and write up your reports. I'll stay here with Mrs Jameson.'

'Well, I wanna stay,' he muttered.

'Look,' she answered, 'this was a really difficult shout. I understand that and you're more use to me writing up a full statement about the state of the house when you arrived. It'll aid the investigation, you know that. Anyway,' she continued, sensing his argument brewing, 'I don't want to crowd Mrs Jameson anymore than is necessary. SOCO'll be arriving to disturb the nursery, there'll be an FLO and the DI's on her way.'

Des snorted. 'Oh, yeah, bring in the ice queen who can't even look after her own daughter.'

'Oi,' she said sharply. Was it possible that, out of everyone in Sun Hill, Des was the only one who hadn't heard about her close friendship with DI Nixon? Then again, it showed her once more that he hadn't been paying that much attention to her. 'You do not speak about your senior officers in that way, PC Taviner, do you understand me?'

'Yes, Sarge,' he said quietly.

'Good. Now, wait here and I'll go upstairs and take over from Kerry with Mrs Jameson.'

She spared him a sympathetic glance before she climbed the stairs, though she preferred taking refuge in her irritation his words about Sam had caused rather than focusing on the problems at hand. Perhaps that's the way she was going to get through this – assuming, of course, that she was.

Kerry was relieved to be dismissed, Sheelagh could tell that from the look on her face. Mrs Jameson was sat silently on the bed, her hands occasionally tying themselves in knots then resting beside her on the bed.

'Mrs Jameson,' Sheelagh said softly, 'my colleague's on her way – DI Nixon. Because of the nature of the case she needs to come and ask you some questions, okay?'

Mrs Jameson didn't respond, just continued rocking on the bed. Abruptly, she rose but, instead of returning to the nursery as Sheelagh thought she might, she headed downstairs and began stalking around the lower level. Though she kept a careful eye on her, Sheelagh wasn't going to interfere until Sam arrived. Then the doorbell rang. Mrs Jameson swung towards it before groping for the sofa, slumping down like a rag roll.

Sheelagh crossed to the door and opened it to find Sam on the threshold. Immediately, despite the anxiety etched on her face, she felt more secure. It helped, of course, that she was no longer the senior officer on the scene but she doubted she would've felt the same crashing wave of relief had Inspector Gold been the one on the doorstep or Jack Meadows.

'Come in,' Sheelagh murmured, stepping aside.

As she passed, Sam reached out and squeezed her shoulder. The gesture almost brought the tears that had been bubbling for the last half an hour to the surface but Sheelagh managed to control them and just nodded her thanks. Sam's gaze lingered for a moment then she moved straight to the armchair near Mrs Jameson. Sheelagh closed the door slowly then moved to stand behind Sam's chair, near to the stairs.

'I'm very sorry to hear about your bad news,' Sam began gently. Then she cast a glance over her shoulder. 'Sergeant Murphy's probably already explained this,' she continued in the same soft tone, 'but, erm, basically, this situation is what we call sudden infant death and there are certain rules about how we are obliged to handle it. Okay? And one of those rules is that as a senior officer I have to be here, okay?'

When she glanced down briefly Sheelagh could see the struggle in her shoulders. For Des to call Samantha Nixon an 'ice queen' was so far from the mark it was laughable.

'Now, we know what happened after our officers arrived,' Sam said, reaching across and putting her hand on Mrs Jameson's arm. 'I know this is hard for you and you probably don't wanna do this right now but I have to ask you certain questions about what happened before they actually got here. Is that all right?' She paused and waited for the slow nod before she asked, 'What's your son's name?'

'Ben,' Mrs Jameson said.

'When did you first notice that there was something wrong with Ben?' Sam questioned.

'I went to wake him to give him his feed and...he just wasn't breathing right.'

Sam nodded. 'What time was this?'

'I don't know,' murmured Mrs Jameson.

'It's okay,' Sam assured her. 'Were you alone?'

'Warren was out.'

'Warren?' repeated Sam.

'Warren's the father,' Sheelagh supplied.

Looking towards her, Sam attempted a watery smile before turning her attention back to Mrs Jameson. 'Okay,' she went on, 'I was told that you had an argument. You were arguing while you called for the ambulance, is that right?'

Mrs Jameson's forehead creased. 'He was shouting at me.'

'Why?' Sam probed.

'He had the baby and he was shouting at me 'make the ambulance come quickly'.'

'Sorry,' Sam replied, 'I thought you said he wasn't here. '

'When he came back,' Mrs Jameson explained.

Sheelagh felt her insides liquidate and Sam's shoulders stiffened as she asked, 'You waited for him to come back before you called the ambulance?'

'I didn't know what to do,' answered Mrs Jameson.

'Okay,' Sam said. How she was managing to keep her voice steady at the moment was beyond Sheelagh's comprehension but, then, Sam wasn't dealing with hormones and a growing baby inside her rebelling at whatever had gone on in this house. 'Was he shouting at you because you hadn't called the ambulance already?' Sam questioned.

'Yes. He made me call them right away,' Mrs Jameson said.

'Annabelle, how long was there between you trying to wake Ben and Warren coming home?' Sam paused, waiting for an answer, but finally was forced to prompt, 'Annabelle?'

'I don't know,' she answered.

'Well, was it a couple of minutes?' Sam persisted. 'Ten minutes? Half an hour?'

'I didn't know what to do,' Mrs Jameson said. 'There was nothing I could do.' Standing she walked past the chair Sam was sat in muttering, 'He just wasn't breathing right.'

Without another word, she headed into the kitchen. Sheelagh turned to watch after her, mindful of the back door practically being a flashing neon escape route, but she settled at the window and simply stared out into the patch of garden.

For a few minutes the house was silent. Though Sheelagh didn't glance back to Sam, she knew she was mentally acclimatising herself to that conversation as much as Sheelagh was. It was strange. The house felt brittle, as though it might crumple around their ears if any one of the three of them so much as breathed loudly.

Then the doorbell rang and Sheelagh nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun to answer it but Sam beat her to it, letting in SOCO and murmuring instructions to them as she ushered them up the stairs, sparing a brief look for Sheelagh before she disappeared out of sight.

Now, with the house a hive of activity, Mrs Jameson seemed to shrink into herself. It was robotic again, the same robotic reaction Sheelagh had seen earlier when she tried to clear the cot. She sat down mechanically on the sofa, as if the creaks upstairs were nothing to her but minor interruptions to her life. Sheelagh didn't like it; she really didn't.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang for a third time. It was the FLO, a specialist PC from Barton Street well-versed in this type of family tragedy. Sheelagh let her in and introduced her to Mrs Jameson, who acknowledged her presence with the merest flicker of her eyes.

With her sentry duty over, Sheelagh could finally climb the stairs and seek out Sam. Ever-attune to her presence, Sam heard her footsteps and came to join her in the doorway of the nursery where SOCO were bagging up the blankets from the cot.

'Does it feel right to you?' Sheelagh asked. 'This whole thing.'

Sam's face was impassive yet strangely open. 'What do you mean?' she returned.

Sheelagh glanced to the cot, wondering how to phrase this. 'Well, she was very quick to clean this room,' she said.

Blinking, Sam absorbed that slowly. She might've responded if one of the scene examiners hadn't slid between them to take some evidence down to their van.

'Excuse me,' the examiner said.

'Sure,' Sam murmured, though Sheelagh could see the lines furrowing her brow.

Abruptly, Mrs Jameson appeared in their line of sight, halting halfway up the stairs. 'Will they take it away?' she asked, gesturing to the bags SOCO were carrying.

'Temporarily,' Sam answered. 'You'll get it all back.'

'I don't want it,' Mrs Jameson said, turning and retreating back down the staircase.

Sheelagh watched her go, the gnawing sensation in her stomach increasing every moment she spent in this house. Finally, she risked a glance sideways and found a similar troubled expression on Sam's face. Perversely, that lessened her anxiety a little – knowing that Sam was as unsettled by all this as she was at least convinced her that her impressions of Mrs Jameson's bizarre grief were more than just her own hormones talking.

'Has the FLO arrived?' Sam questioned quietly. When Sheelagh nodded she continued, 'Then we should all go to the hospital, talk to the father there, away from the house, let Annabelle see her son. Leave the scene to SOCO.'

'Sure,' Sheelagh replied, starting down the staircase. Sam's hand rested briefly between her shoulder blades, something Sheelagh appreciated more than she would've been able to articulate if she'd needed to. But she didn't – the instinct that had prompted Sam to reach out in the first place probably told her how welcome the gesture had been.

Downstairs, Sam located Mrs Jameson in the kitchen and asked her if she wanted to come to the hospital with them.

'Warren won't want me there,' she answered. 'I don't want to go.'

Sam exchanged another glance with Sheelagh but just nodded. 'Okay, Annabelle, that's fine. You've been introduced to your Family Liaison Officer, haven't you? She's going to stay with you and anything you need, you let her know. The people upstairs won't be here much longer.'

Mrs Jameson just blinked a few times then turned away. Sheelagh kept her eyes on the rigid figure for a few moments then Sam grasped her arm and gestured to the door. Only once they were outside in the cool autumnal air did either of them manage to catch their breath and Sam didn't relinquish her arm until she'd led her to the car and put her into the passenger seat. Sheelagh wondered if she really looked that bad until she caught sight of herself in the wing mirror and realised that she actually did.

Coming round to the driver's seat, Sam started the engine and they began crawling down the road. 'I'm taking you back to the nick.'

'No,' Sheelagh said instantly. 'I can do my job, Sam.'

'I'm not saying that you can't,' she replied. 'But I've been concerned about you for a while, Sheelagh, and I wouldn't be doing _my_ job if I didn't act on those concerns.'

'Don't pull the rank card,' Sheelagh said. 'If we weren't friends then you wouldn't know –'

'That there's something tormenting you?' Sam interrupted, glancing sideways. 'No, you're right, I wouldn't. But the point is that I do and I can't put that aside because I care about you too much.'

The words dampened Sheelagh's fire a little and she sighed. 'Please, let me see this through. At least let me come to the hospital and interview the father with you.'

Sam's face plainly showed her conflict. She chewed on her lip for a moment then said, 'This case would affect any parent, Sheelagh. There's no shame in it. I can stand you down and nobody would think anything of it.'

'You're a mother,' Sheelagh pointed out.

'Yeah,' murmured Sam, her voice barely audible as she held up a trembling hand, 'and that's why I'm like this. As DI I have to do this,' she continued, gripping the steering wheel with both hands again. 'You don't.'

'Let me sit on your interview with the father,' said Sheelagh softly. 'I won't get involved, just let me be there. If it gets too much I promise you I'll –'

'Is this my best offer?' Sam cut in, a wisp of a smile on her face.

'Something like that,' Sheelagh answered. Reaching across, she rested a hand on Sam's knee. 'If I were any other officer, you'd say no, wouldn't you?'

Briefly, Sam covered her hand with her own then focused on the road. 'Damn right I would.'

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Sheelagh immeasurably grateful for the friendship that allowed them this mutual understanding. For her part, she'd come to the abrupt decision that she needed to tell Sam about the baby and about Des, just as soon as this case was put to bed. Hearing how concerned Sam had been about her had made her realise that she needed to trust her with this. She needed to be open and honest and trust that Sam wouldn't turn away because of it.

At the hospital they located Mr Jameson and took him into a small room away from the hustle and bustle of the ward. He looked shell-shocked, as brittle as the mother but in a different way. This man sat across the room in front of a gentle Samantha Nixon was someone Sheelagh could identify with.

'Ben was fine when I went out,' Mr Jameson murmured.

'How long did you go out for?' Sam questioned.

'Two hours,' he said. 'I should've come home before. If only I'd come home before I could've done something.'

'Was your son ill or not himself in any way?' asked Sam carefully.

'He had a tummy upset a few days ago, nothing out of the ordinary.'

Despite her promise to stay on the sidelines, Sheelagh couldn't help but question, 'Had you been involved a lot in looking after him, Warren?'

'Annabelle won't let me,' he answered.

'Let you what?' pressed Sam.

'She won't let me anywhere near him,' Mr Jameson explained. 'She won't let me change him or feed him. If I try to pick him up she grabs him off me.'

'You know,' Sam said after a moment, 'when we left your house, Mr Jameson, we offered to bring your wife. But she said you wouldn't want her here.'

'I don't,' he said, his voice trembling.

Sam's gaze was fixed on him. 'Why not?'

'My son's dead,' he muttered.

'Do you blame her for that?' she asked.

'I blame her for keeping me away from him. I should've done more. I should've insisted,' he added, scrubbing his eyes.

Sam looked puzzled. 'Insisted on – on what?'

'Babies don't just die,' Mr Jameson said.

It was those words that began to undo Sheelagh. She'd been coping – barely – during the rest of this conversation but that proclamation was closer to her heart than she'd liked to admit. As soon as she'd accepted yesterday that she wanted this baby, that she was going to welcome him or her into her life and be grateful for it, she'd opened herself up to feel this level of empathy, this pain.

'Sometimes they do, Mr Jameson,' Sam said quietly.

'No, they don't,' he replied. 'There has to be a reason.'

Sam struggled for a second, finally managing, 'Well, that's what we're here to find out.'

That was all Sheelagh could bear. Standing, she tried to leave the room as quietly as she could. She felt, rather than saw, Sam's head lift up and glance at her, though she couldn't look in her direction. Part of it was shame burning through her – she'd promised not half an hour ago that she could cope with this situation and she'd failed. But if she stayed in that room she would've started crying or worse. It wasn't fair to put either Sam or Mr Jameson in that position so she'd bowed out while she could.

Out in the corridor, she tried to pull herself together. That wasn't made any easier by the fact that Des was sat out there on one of the banks of hard green seats. She sat down on the nearest chair and he moved along to be opposite her.

'I thought I sent you back to the nick,' Sheelagh said.

'You did,' he replied. 'How's the father?'

'Pretty shaken up,' she answered.

'I had to give that baby mouth to mouth, you know,' he said. 'I can still feel his lips next to mine. He was so cold and tiny.' As he leaned forward in his seat, she could feel his words permeating her body, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. 'It's funny when something happens to you out of the blue like that,' he went on. 'Makes you think about what's really important in life.'

'Des, that's why I sent you back to the nick,' she tried. 'Now, if you want me to stand you down for the rest of the shift I will.'

She was aware that she was sounding like Sam had with her not so long ago. Perhaps the only difference was that she would force Des to stand down if she thought he needed it.

'Who's the father of your baby, Sheelagh?' Des asked and she glanced down to her hands. 'You've got to tell me,' he persisted. 'When that father handed me the baby he wanted me to perform a miracle. Cos that's what life is, isn't it? A miracle.' Crossing the corridor, he sat beside her, painfully close. 'So I don't care if this baby is Patrick's or mine or some other fella's,' he continued, 'I just need to know.'

Finally, she was forced to look at him. 'It's not some other fella's.'

'So whose is it?' he pressed.

'Mine,' she murmured.

He snorted. 'Come on, Sheelagh.'

Sheelagh looked away from him, a sigh escaping her lips as she admitted, 'Yours.'

After a long pause, he purposefully turned her face towards his. 'When were you gonna tell me?' he questioned. Her face must've betrayed the truth because his hardened. 'Does Patrick know?' he demanded.

'No,' she replied.

He growled. 'Patrick thinks it's his and you're gonna play happy families with him?'

'He wants to be with me,' she answered. 'You don't.'

'How can I when you treat me like this?' he questioned.

'See, Des, that's why I didn't tell you,' she retorted. 'Because I know I can't rely on you.'

Unable to stand any more of his pushing, especially when the face of Mr Jameson was still swimming at the back of her mind, she stood and fled towards the bathroom. She couldn't leave the hospital without Sam – she knew that much.


	12. Chapter 12

Throughout the interview with Mr Jameson Sam had been painfully aware of Sheelagh's distress in the corner. Perhaps it was her own fault for allowing her to observe the interview in the first place – she knew from their time in the Jameson house that Sheelagh was struggling immensely, though when she'd raised it in the car she'd allowed herself to be mollified. She should've been more insistent but she couldn't bring herself to pull rank on Sheelagh when she looked so fragile. That was the very reason she should've done it, of course, but the disconnect between what Sam would force another officer to do and what she'd ask of Sheelagh had expanded into a wide gulf today.

When Sheelagh had fled the interview Sam's first instinct had been to follow her. She combated that and put the grieving father first, though she didn't have many more questions to ask him. He'd certainly been through enough today and she could hand over her initial thoughts to another detective tomorrow without compunction.

After locating a nurse to sit with Mr Jameson until a car arrived for him, Sam finally felt able to go in search of Sheelagh. She knew somehow that she hadn't left the hospital and locating Des hovering around the main entrance just proved that fact in her mind.

'Do you know where Sergeant Murphy is?' she questioned coolly.

He hunched his shoulders up. 'She went to the loo, Ma'am. I'm waiting to give her a lift back to the nick.'

'No need for that, PC Taviner,' Sam replied.

'I reckon I should –'

'I don't,' she cut in. 'Go back to the station. I'll need your report on what happened today as soon as possible.'

As he stomped off she couldn't help but wonder again what Sheelagh saw in him. Then again, Sam hardly had a sterling history with men herself. Anyway, that was very much beside the point at the moment. Turning back into the hospital, she went in search of Sheelagh. She found her on the sixth attempt, upstairs in a secluded bathroom off the oncology ward. She'd obviously gone to some lengths to avoid being found and maybe Sam should've respected her wishes, but she knew the moment she walked through the door that she couldn't do that anymore.

Sheelagh was leaning over the sink, tears seeping from her eyes into the suds at the bottom of the bowl. Immediately, Sam rushed over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

'I should've sent you back to the nick,' she muttered.

If Sheelagh was surprised by her sudden presence she didn't show it. Instead, she just shook her head, tears splattering everywhere. 'It's not that,' she said, tearing herself away. Going into a cubicle, she emerged with some toilet tissue and scrubbed at her eyes.

'I think you're gonna have to tell me,' Sam said, wringing her hands together. 'Please, Sheelagh,' she added, hardly recognising her plaintive tone.

Sheelagh looked up, the sodden tissue crumpled in her hand and her eyes raw. Finally, she whispered, 'I'm pregnant.'

Sam didn't realise her feet were moving until she scooped Sheelagh into her arms. Holding her tight, her mind was racing. It was the most obvious thing in the world and she could've kicked herself for not figuring it out herself. The 'food poisoning' and the mood swings Gina had reported were damning evidence for a start. Instead of jumping to the obvious conclusion, though, she'd kept it at arm's length and she didn't know why.

'I'm sorry,' she said into Sheelagh's ear as she stroked her hair down gently. 'If I'd known –'

'No!' Sheelagh burst out, pushing her away and eliciting a slither of terror that Sam didn't fully understand. 'Don't feel sorry for me. I don't want that, I don't deserve that.'

'Of course you do,' she replied. 'A case like this is bound to –'

'The baby's not Patrick's,' Sheelagh interrupted.

'It's Des's,' Sam murmured then she had to reach out and steady herself on the wall.

Vocalising her suspicions like that had set off a chain reaction that burned a course through her body and settled like a white hot ball at the pit of her stomach. She recognised it in an instant as jealousy. It was Des, she realised abruptly; she was jealous of Des. The confirmation of the affair had imposed an image of the pair of them in her mind which sent a ripple of disgust along her arms. Which meant... Lifting her chin, she looked at Sheelagh through new eyes.

This was something else so obvious that she couldn't believe she'd missed it. Maybe it was simply a case of not wanting to see it, because acknowledging it opened a can of worms too big to contain, but it was as plain now as any confession in the interview room. Some master detective she was, she thought wryly, as her gaze involuntarily roamed over Sheelagh's body. Looking at another woman like this was an alien concept but it stirred something inside of her. It had been lingering under the surface for goodness knows how long, so closely wound into their friendship that she hadn't differentiated it until now. Everything had suddenly shifted and she didn't have a clue how to begin to deal with it.

'I knew it,' Sheelagh said softly. 'I knew you'd hate me.'

Shaking herself, Sam pressed her palm flat against the wall and straightened up. 'I don't hate you, Sheelagh, I can promise you that. I just...' She trailed off and attempted a smile, though she knew how watery it probably looked to someone as adept at reading her as Sheelagh Murphy. Then she stiffened, wondering if her feelings were emblazoned on her face now she was abruptly aware of them. That would account for the apprehensive way Sheelagh was looking at her at least. Her brain told her she should try and assess the damage to their friendship but she couldn't really think beyond the tingling in her chest.

'You what?' Sheelagh pressed finally, her voice laced with pain. As hard as Sam tried, though, she couldn't detect any definite shift in her tone, no antagonism. That gave her the strength to swallow and regroup.

'I can't believe I didn't spot it,' she said quietly, 'that's all. Here I am calling myself a Detective Inspector and your friend and I couldn't see what was – what was staring me in the face.'

After scrutinising her for a few moments, Sheelagh leaned back limply against the sink. 'I didn't want you to know. I'm so ashamed; I've made a mess of everything.'

Keeping her distance was no longer an option. Pushing off from the wall, Sam approached her again and took her hand, well aware of the current that passed through her body at the contact. 'Listen,' she said, holding her voice remarkably steady under the circumstances, 'I don't care about the whats and the whys right now. We can talk about all that later, but I need to know that you're okay. This kind of case in your condition would be bad enough without all the extra stress you've got whirling around.'

Sheelagh glanced up, tears in her eyes. 'How do you still manage to surprise me?' she asked.

Sam let out a soft chuckle to cover her unease. 'Tell me how I can help,' she said simply.

'I spent most of last night in here being checked over,' Sheelagh said, sending another spasm of anxiety rippling through Sam's body. 'I'm okay,' she went on quickly. 'It was the pressure of keeping everything in. I'd been doing my best to ignore it.'

'Does Patrick know the baby's not his?' Sam questioned, the image of Des undressing Sheelagh ricocheting through her mind again and bringing heat to her face.

'No,' answered Sheelagh with a grimace. 'I didn't even tell him I was pregnant. It was June who –'

'You told June Ackland?' Sam cut in, releasing Sheelagh's hand. She knew how hurt she sounded but, somehow, she couldn't help it.

'Please, Sam, it isn't like it sounds,' Sheelagh insisted. 'I could tell June because... Oh, I don't know.'

As she spun away and began splashing her face with cold water, Sam stared at her. Two fresh thoughts were scurrying around her mind. The first was that it didn't matter whether Sheelagh had trusted her enough to tell her ahead of Saint June Ackland because it didn't dampen her feelings one bit. Two – and this was something that she was struggling to get her head around – that there must be a reason that Sheelagh hadn't wanted to tell her the truth about the baby. They couldn't possibly be down to the same thing...could they?

Suddenly, she realised Sheelagh was crying again and her attempts to make sense of this became redundant. She gently rubbed circles into her friend's spine as she murmured, 'It doesn't matter. Don't get yourself worked up, it won't do either of you any good.'

Once more, Sheelagh glanced at her in surprise, tears drying on her cheeks. 'I need to explain.'

'Not now,' Sam said swiftly, as much for her own sake as Sheelagh's. 'Are you feeling physically okay or should we get you checked over downstairs?'

'I'm fine,' she replied, 'honestly. I'm just exhausted.'

'No wonder. Come on,' continued Sam gently, 'I'm taking you straight home. It's the end of the shift anyway and Gina's not around. If anyone asks, it was my call.'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'You don't have to do that.'

'Did you get the impression it was up for discussion?' Sam shot back, trying to inject some normality into her tone. From the tired smile that slipped onto Sheelagh's face, she judged she'd been successful. 'Okay,' she continued, 'then let's get you out of here.'

When Sheelagh tried to move she stumbled a little. There was nothing else for it but for Sam to slot an arm around her waist and guide her out of the bathroom and down the corridor. It was far too intimate for her liking, especially when the thoughts still swirling around her head were anything but platonic, but keeping Sheelagh upright came first. Only when she deposited her in the passenger seat of the car did Sam allow herself a moment to breathe. Then she dragged herself around to the driver's side and went back to trying to feign normality.

'Are you okay going home?' she asked suddenly, glancing sideways. 'Is there somewhere else you'd rather go?'

Exhaling, Sheelagh muttered, 'I could put it off but it wouldn't help.'

What argument was there to that? Sam couldn't think of anything to say and instead just concentrated on manoeuvring them out of the underground car park. As they drove through the streets of Canley she couldn't help looking over to the passenger seat. She told herself she was just checking that Sheelagh was okay but that wasn't it.

Pulling up outside Sheelagh's house, she turned to face her. Though she looked as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders in the last hour, she was still pale and exhausted. Overriding the undercurrent that Sam was endeavouring to push to the back of her mind was the realisation that Sheelagh needed her friendship now more than ever.

'If you need anything,' she said, meeting her eye, 'let me know. I mean that.'

'I know you do,' Sheelagh said softly then she hesitated. 'I do have to ask you a favour.'

'Anything,' Sam replied instantly.

'You know I haven't told Inspector Gold yet...'

Sam groaned and briefly rested her head in her hands. Looking back to Sheelagh, she said, 'You're putting yourself and the baby at risk. How can I let you do that?'

'Give me a few more days,' Sheelagh pleaded, reaching across and entwining their fingers. 'I promise I'll tell you everything and I'll tell Gina the truth. I just need a little more time.'

With the warmth of Sheelagh's fingers around her own she couldn't muster up a coherent argument. Sighing, she said, 'I'll give you two days breathing space. Then I have to put your welfare first, not just as your senior officer.'

'I know,' answered Sheelagh. 'Thank you.'

'For helping you hide the truth from Inspector Gold?' she questioned wryly. 'You're welcome.'

'Not just for that.' Leaning across the car, Sheelagh pressed a sudden kiss to her cheek that almost made her reel. 'I'll see you tomorrow, Sam,' she added before slipping out of the car.

As she had twice in recent weeks, Sam watched her trudge up the path and unlock the front door. This time, though, it was more compulsive than anything else. Watching Sheelagh had suddenly become mesmerising and she was entranced by the sway of her hips even as her slumped shoulders and bowed head highlighted how she was really feeling.

When the house door slowly shut Sam closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then she realised that she needed to put some distance between herself and this family home – quickly. Unable to face the prospect of seeing Abi, she drove aimlessly and ended up in a secluded spot along the riverbank. Only then, standing with her arms hooked around the chilled railings could she allow her thoughts to finally roam free.

She was in love with Sheelagh Murphy. It was so obvious that it physically hurt.

Thinking back, it had been brewing for longer than she cared to imagine. During the months Sheelagh had been at Sun Hill she'd treated her differently to anyone one, at first subtly then, in recent months, far more overtly. Never really having had a proper friendship that wasn't a constant power struggle with ulterior motives lurking underneath maybe she'd failed to see what was really going on here. If she analysed it – really analysed it – from the beginning then she could plainly see the warning signs she'd spent so long ignoring.

Sheelagh had made herself indispensible in her first week at the nick. That part of the narrative Sam was comfortable with. She remembered all too well the dark days of Joanna's disappearance and how Sheelagh had pitched straight in, helping out and proving her worth as a sergeant. But there was more to it than that, she realised as she stared into the Thames.

She could remember standing in the bathroom at Sun Hill, a mess after telling Eva that a little girl's body had been found. Sheelagh had come in and coaxed her into talking, saying it would be their 'little secret'. They had so many of those these days that it was difficult to remember that was the first one. That Sheelagh had helped put her back together on so many occasions was one of their secrets; that she was privy to her true thoughts about things ranging from Joanna's disappearance to Pat Kitson to Polly Page's arrest was a mark of how much she'd come to trust her. Sheelagh knew things about her, from the small details of her chocolate preference and love for ABBA, up to how viscerally appalled she was by Matt Boyden seducing Abi. She'd put her job at risk by warning Sheelagh about Mickey's rape, she'd confided things about work to her really as a matter of course recently. It was more remarkable for her not to tell her about something these days. Except Glenn, of course. She hadn't told her about Glenn.

Gripping the railing a little tighter, Sam swallowed. Whether she knew it then or not, this was probably the reason she'd felt so reluctant to tell Sheelagh about all that. Fear of losing her as a friend, yes, but fear of something much deeper than that. She'd been so blind but, then, she couldn't have seen this coming.

She'd never even been attracted to a woman before. Really, she saw them more as rivals. There wasn't room for that many women in the higher ranks of the force and her job was more important to her than petty friendships. Besides, when did she have time to cultivate them? No, she didn't have friends usually. That's what Abi had said when they were on holiday and she was worrying about Sheelagh back home.

This new urge to... She pressed her lips together and lowered her chin onto the cool railing. She had to admit it to herself at least or she wouldn't get any peace.

It was so much more than friendship. She hadn't so little experience in that to be unable to work out how far removed this was from it. Friendship was, maybe, what she had with Eva. She cared what happened to her, she'd defend her professionally and personally, but with Sheelagh it was much more than that. Stood in that murky hospital bathroom, Sam had wanted to kiss her, at the bare minimum. There, she'd admitted it. The alarming part of that was not how strong that urge had been – and, admittedly, it had been almost magnetic – but how similar it was to most of her other thoughts and feelings about Sheelagh lately. A natural extension, maybe, but she was putting a different spin on every conversation they'd had since Glenn – since before that.

One moment she could pinpoint that seemed innocuous at the time but so altered in hindsight was after Sheelagh had been assaulted by a junkie in that crack house. She'd rushed downstairs to find her then, in the bathroom, she'd tilted Sheelagh's chin up and scrutinised the damage. Closing her eyes now she could remember not only the darkening bruises but the pale, smooth skin around them and how she wanted to lean forward and claim it.

Sighing, she opened her eyes again and turned away from the grimy water and rested back against the railings. Acknowledging that this had been floating around for months didn't help her in the here and now.

If Sam knew anything about Sheelagh it was that an attraction to another woman wasn't part of her experiences. She couldn't say with certainty what instinct drew her to that conclusion; maybe it was simply that Sheelagh's faith was deep-rooted, even if they never discussed it. Most definitely, if Sheelagh had ever even thought of another woman in that way, it hadn't been Sam. The ease of their relationship would've vanished if she had – Sheelagh would've pulled back. No matter how reluctant Sheelagh had been to confide in her in recent weeks, they were still close in other ways, but that didn't obscure the fundamental problem that Sheelagh would be horrified about this if she knew the truth.

For a fleeting moment in the hospital earlier Sam had wondered whether Sheelagh's reluctance to tell her about Des and the baby came from the same place that had apparently held back her own confidences about Glenn and Abi. Now she rubbished that idea. Sheelagh didn't feel the same way about her, not even subconsciously – how could she? To her theirs was a friendship that, yeah, seemed to matter to her but that was all. Whatever the reason she'd kept her in the dark, it wasn't down to any reciprocation.

Suddenly, her phone beeping startled her. It was a text from Abi, asking what time she'd be home. Briefly, she smiled at the enquiry then realised it was past nine. She'd been stood out here for ages, no wonder her fingers were numb. Dashing off a reply to Abi, she slotted back into the car and started the engine. Then her gaze caught on the empty passenger seat.

All this introspection was frivolous crap. How she felt about Sheelagh was a sideshow. She could deal with her feelings later – she was adept enough at pushing things to the back of her mind, she always had been. What wasn't going to go away was the fact that Sheelagh was pregnant with Des Taviner's baby. The problems that threw up wouldn't disappear, however much Sheelagh tried to bury her head in the sand about it. Her health was at risk, her marriage too by the sound of it. As difficult as it was for Sam to contemplate aiding Sheelagh's attempts to fix her marriage – if that's what she wanted – it was the right thing to do. She couldn't call herself a friend if she didn't try to help any way she could and, besides, she thought as she reversed back onto the road, if you loved someone then your instinct was to make them happy. Maybe that was the surest sign yet that she'd fallen hard, fallen without even realising it until it was far too late to do anything about it.

* * *

That night she slept badly.

It was as though a switch had been flicked in her mind. All the feelings she didn't know she'd been suppressing had been unleashed. She was cycling through every conversation she'd ever had with Sheelagh while she was half-awake then succumbing to dreams that sucked the air out of her chest when she fitfully awoke. She ended up staring through the darkness at the ceiling, blue eyes swimming in her head until sleep consumed her again.

A strong coffee did enough to get her to work, though she was later in than she would've liked. Her heart was hammering as she walked in through the front office, expecting to see Sheelagh around every corner and unsure how she'd react if she did. It felt like she was a teenager again, simultaneously desperate to see someone and dreading it too.

Walking into CID, she was surprised at how empty it was. They were still a couple of bodies down, of course, but that didn't account for the fact that only Debbie and Rob were at their desks. Catching sight of her, Debbie rose and intercepted her before she made it to her office.

'Guv, the DCI assigned Eva to that sudden infant death from yesterday,' she said.

Sam indicated for her to follow her then dropped her bag beside the desk and turned back. 'That was going to be my first job actually. Why did the DCI jump in?'

'Because the father went up on the hospital roof with a baby,' Debbie answered. 'Turned out to be his own but obviously Eva and Sheelagh didn't know that at the time.'

Sam's head snapped up. 'Sheelagh's there?'

'Yeah, she responded to the original call after Des and Reg.' Debbie paused, evidently wary of asking the next question. 'Do you want me to speak to the mother, Guv?'

'No, no, I'll do it,' she replied, not missing the flicker of relief that crossed Debbie's face. 'Thanks for letting me know.'

With the door closed, Sam sank into her chair briefly and tried to order her thoughts. She'd fully intended on assigning the Jameson case to Eva, knowing that as a mother she'd deal with it sensitively. With Annabelle Jameson as difficult a witness as she'd been yesterday, Sam's options were limited if she didn't investigate it herself and, truthfully, she hoped that another officer might be able to manoeuvre around Mrs Jameson's muddled recollections a little more effectively. It was one of those cases where you needed to find the right person to deal with it. Being announced yesterday as a Detective Inspector may have closed Annabelle up against her – better to pass it on, that's what she'd thought. It helped, of course, that using that reasoning to extricate herself from the case meant she could extricate Sheelagh too. This was the last thing she should be dealing with, and she really shouldn't be hanging around on rooftops either. When Sheelagh got back to the nick she'd have to talk to her, something that sent an unbidden shiver through her body.

For now, though, she needed to go and speak to Mrs Jameson about her husband's actions and explain who'd be taking over the investigation. Driving there at least put her mind back on the job. She found Mrs Jameson sat in silence, the FLO beside her. It took several attempts for what she was saying to sink in but, finally, Sam got through to her and gently pressed for Annabelle to join her husband at the hospital. By the time she left the house she felt as though she'd done a morning in the witness box, not fifteen minutes with a bereaved mother who refused to utter more than a few words. She sat in her car until she watched the FLO drive away with Mrs Jameson then she returned to the station, intent on trying to get some work done before Sheelagh arrived back.

In reality, that was a pipe dream. She sat in her office with the door open, hearing every set of footsteps and believing it was Sheelagh. Her entire body stilled every time then she mentally shook herself and tried to focus back on her paperwork. It was crazy – this time yesterday she'd had no idea all this was about to cascade down onto her head but now it felt like the most natural reaction in the world.

Finally, she saw a figure round the corner and her shoulders relaxed momentarily. Then she realised how fragile Sheelagh looked and she rapidly rose, ready to close the door and blinds as soon as she was over the threshold. There was a slight hesitation on Sheelagh's part before she sat down, as though she was thinking about bolting. Sam had intended to return to her own chair but she found herself kneeling beside Sheelagh's chair, startling them both. It was magnetic almost, like her desire to kiss her last night, an idea she immediately tried to suppress as soon as it jumped into her mind – though it was a bit too late for that, especially given how close they physically were right now.

'How are you feeling today?' she asked gently.

Sheelagh pressed her lips together then said, 'The family were known to Social Services, I've tasked Eva to get the records. The PM was inconclusive.'

Sam stretched out a hand to her arm. 'You know that wasn't the question.'

There was a moment where she feared Sheelagh was about to push her away but she didn't. Instead, catching sight of the emotion bubbling in her eyes, Sam rose and pulled her close. She felt Sheelagh stiffen then finally give in and let her tears fall freely. Resting her chin on her trembling head, Sam found tears stinging her own eyelids.

'Shush,' she murmured, 'it's okay. I've got you.'

Sheelagh spluttered a laugh into her chest. 'This isn't in your job description.'

Sam felt the tremor of Sheelagh's body against her own, felt it ripple inside of her and she smoothed her fingers along her hair to distract herself. As much as she tried to tell herself it was inappropriate to be feeling the way she did while Sheelagh was distraught, she couldn't help the way being this close to her suddenly made her feel.

Drawing away, Sam returned to her kneeling position, taking hold of Sheelagh's arm with one hand and fumbling in her bag for a packet of tissues with the other. When she located them and passed them over Sheelagh let out another short laugh but didn't unwrap the packet. It was down to Sam to do what Sheelagh had done for her several times now. She slid a tissue out and reached up to scoop away the tears on her cheeks, fingertips brushing soft skin. Sheelagh just watched her then, finally, took a long shuddering breath and seemed to come back into herself. Even so, Sam didn't move, however much her knees ached.

'Don't pull me off the Jameson case,' Sheelagh said.

Sam grimaced. 'Don't ask me that.'

'Please,' Sheelagh insisted, 'I need to see it through. I know the family now, I can help.'

'You're also pregnant,' Sam reminded her. 'You shouldn't even be on active duty, let alone investigating a case like this. As your superior officer, I need to look after you.'

Sheelagh grasped her hand, squeezing hard. 'Listen, I've just had to talk Mr Jameson down from the hospital roof. He gave me his son, Sam. He didn't want him to be cold and alone in the...' Breaking off, she swallowed. 'But he trusted me when I told him we'd respect Ben. I made him that promise, I need to stick to it.'

'You personally don't,' Sam replied, though she knew she was wavering. The flash of determination in Sheelagh's eyes was too familiar, too compelling. 'What am I gonna do with you, hmm?'

Sheelagh managed a weak smile. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the baby.'

Abruptly, Sam rose again, putting the desk between them and sitting in her own chair. 'Can I ask why you didn't?' she questioned, aware of retreating into her DI Nixon persona but unable to stop herself.

'I'm ashamed of it,' Sheelagh answered finally.

'But you told June Ackland,' she pointed out.

Looking down, Sheelagh muttered, 'I didn't tell June who the father is. If I'd told you what was going on, I would've had to tell you everything and I didn't want you...'

When she trailed off Sam clenched her hands on her lap out of sight. 'What did you think I'd do?'

'The last couple of months have been torture,' admitted Sheelagh after a few moments. 'All the guilt, denial, trying to ignore the pregnancy... I haven't been dealing with it very well. You know that, don't you?'

Sam shrugged. 'I was trying to give you space.'

Nodding, Sheelagh said, 'To tell you in my own time. I appreciated that. I know it goes against your nature.'

She couldn't help but smile slightly. 'You're not wrong there.'

'The truth is,' Sheelagh continued, wrapping her arms over her stomach, 'I didn't want to lose you. The only time I've felt safe and normal lately is when I'm with you.'

Sam swallowed as she absorbed those words. Sheelagh had no idea – she couldn't have – of the way that simple statement affected her. Yeah, she'd tried to be a supportive friend, not pushing when her instincts told her something was wrong, but she supposed in hindsight that she hadn't wanted to confront the situation anymore than Sheelagh had because she felt secure in their little bubble.

'I'm glad,' she said eventually, forcing herself to look up.

Sheelagh held her gaze, her eyes watery again. 'You knew about Des though.'

'I didn't know,' Sam replied. 'I've suspected for a long time.'

'So it wasn't Gina who told you?' asked Sheelagh.

'We've never discussed specifics,' she answered. 'We've skirted around the subject a bit. She knew I was worried about you. But, no,' she went on. 'I've seen you with Des. I just didn't know how far it'd gone.'

Biting her lip, Sheelagh fell silent. Sam didn't know what was going through her head but she suddenly remembered where they were and what a nasty case they were currently involved in. Retreating behind that at least lessened the knot of jealousy in her chest.

'I'll let you stay on the Jameson case,' Sam said after a minute.

Sheelagh glanced up. 'You will?'

'Yeah,' she replied. 'I understand why you want to stick with it. Besides,' she added, 'you haven't told me anything about any pregnancy, have you? I've got no reason to pull you from the case.'

Rising, Sheelagh rounded the desk and surprised her with a hug. 'Thank you,' she murmured as she drew back, fresh tears in her eyes.

Sam tried to wave that away, ignoring the warmth spreading through her entire body. 'Go get yourself cleaned up a bit,' she advised. 'You look terrible.'

Sheelagh chuckled and squeezed her shoulder before she walked to the door. Turning back, she opened her mouth then closed it again and left without another word, pulling the door shut behind her.

Leaning back in her chair, Sam exhaled heavily. It was barely ten o'clock and she already felt as though she'd done a twelve hour shift. She was doing the wrong thing, letting Sheelagh stay on the case. She knew that as much as she knew that her heart was going to continue overriding her head – at least for the time being, until she could adjust herself to this. It felt as though she was still playing catch-up, not just with her own feelings but with what Sheelagh wanted. She couldn't help her if she didn't know and the middle of the Jameson case was no time to be interrogating her. Perhaps, subconsciously, that was another reason she'd let her continue on the investigation, along with Sheelagh's obvious desire to see it through.

For half an hour she forced herself to focus on her paperwork, double-checking everything and rolling her eyes at the lack of clarity in Rob Thatcher's reports. She knew from experience that she needed to keep an eye on him but this was ridiculous.

A knock on the door startled her and when she called for whoever it was to come in she found herself facing Sheelagh again, this time with Eva at her side. Her eyes caught on Sheelagh, noting that she'd done a pretty good job tidying herself up. No one would guess she'd been in bits in this office less an hour ago.

'Morning, Guv,' Eva said. 'The baby's post-mortem came back inconclusive but the family were known to Social Services so I've been doing some digging.'

'Go on,' Sam replied, pretending that she hadn't heard this once already and earning a weak smile from Sheelagh for her trouble.

'The social worker said there was no intimacy,' Eva continued. 'It was as if Annabelle didn't want to touch Ben. But she wouldn't let anyone else near her baby either.'

'Did she say anything about postnatal depression?' Sam asked.

'Well, we'll have to talk to Annabelle's GP about that,' answered Eva. 'The social worker said there was no evidence of physical abuse.'

'Until now,' Sheelagh said. Sam legitimately shifted her attention to Sheelagh for a moment as she glanced to Eva and queried, 'What about evidence of neglect?'

Sighing, Eva said, 'Look, Annabelle was a first time mum and she didn't have a lot of support. Warren works away from home a lot, her parents are dead, it's hard for her.'

'We know she wanted an abortion,' Sheelagh argued. 'What if the baby wasn't Warren's?'

Sam inwardly winced. It was a leap under the circumstances to suggest that but, of course, she knew where the accusation had come from. Here was a compelling reason to edge Sheelagh away from the case, though she still couldn't bring herself to do it. She maintained faith in her abilities as a police officer and, really, a perspective on this that was a little critical of Annabelle's reaction to the death could be welcome. After all, both she and Sheelagh had seen the strangeness in her demeanour yesterday. Grief affected everyone differently, but so did guilt.

Eva snorted. 'There's no reason to think that Annabelle's had some sort of affair,' she said. 'She wasn't the greatest mum on earth but it doesn't justify any of this. She just lost her baby for Pete's sake.'

'Be interesting to hear what the GP has to say at least,' Sam said after a few seconds. 'I want you both to stay on this. But, remember,' she added, 'kid gloves.'

Both of them nodded. Eva was quick to leave but Sheelagh lingered, shooting her a grateful look that made the professional risks she was taking with this case worth it.

Once more, Sam burrowed into her paperwork as soon as the door closed. She was interrupted by Phil asking for her authorisation on an obbo. On another day perhaps she would've checked the details a little more thoroughly but the prospect of getting him out of her hair quickly was too enticing. Besides, once in a while he proved he was a good copper, it was just that half of his results stank to high heaven and the other half were probably down to someone else.

She was by the window looking at a file when there was another knock at the door.

'Come in,' she called.

It was Eva who entered, making sure to shut the door behind her. 'Annabelle Jameson's old flatmate,' she began and Sam lowered the file, paying full attention. 'She's just confirmed that she did have another child long before Ben.'

'And before she met Warren?' Sam questioned.

'Yeah, Annabelle was pregnant when she moved into the flat,' Eva answered. 'She'd been living with a guy but he'd wanted to get married and they split up over it. Then she discovered she was pregnant.'

'Well, so what happened?' Sam pressed. 'Did she have it adopted or something?'

Eva shook her head. 'No, not at all. She wanted to bring the baby up on her own, doted on him apparently.' Breaking off, Eva hesitated. 'Until he died.'

'How did the baby die?' asked Sam, feeling an icy build-up in her stomach.

'It was another cot death,' Eva admitted.

Wincing, Sam shifted her weight. 'Okay,' she said finally, 'get consent to obtain Annabelle and Warren's medical records. We've got to look at all angles on this. Keep me in the loop, okay?'

'Yes, Guv,' said Eva before leaving.

It wasn't looking good, Sam conceded when she was alone. As a mother she knew the stresses that came with a newborn baby in the house. Dealing with Abi had been a nightmare at times. She wasn't a natural mother, feeling much more comfortable when there were a few years on the clock and she could reason with her daughter. It was a stressful situation, Eva had been right earlier about that, but, having spoken to Warren, Sam knew that Annabelle was far from alone. He'd desperately wanted to help with his son and his wife had stopped him. Could it really be because she'd been so detached from him that she was willing to let him die – or worse? No matter how many times in her career she had to deal with the deaths of children, it never got any easier. For Sheelagh, too, this case would be terrible. Not for the first time that day, Sam wondered whether she'd made the wrong call, she wondered how Sheelagh was coping out there.

She had a meeting with Jack scheduled in for three o'clock. It was routine stuff, updates on recent cases and the like, but at least it gave her something to focus on. When she got back to her office, though, Eva jumped up and followed her inside.

'You need to pull Sergeant Murphy from this case,' she said without preamble.

Spinning around, Sam closed the door and asked, 'Why?'

Eva paced across the office. 'Look, Guv, there are things... I don't think she should be assigned to this case, that's all.'

'I need more than that,' she pointed out, all the while hoping her discomfort didn't show in her face. 'Has there been any progress since we last spoke?'

'Annabelle's confessed to killing her son,' Eva said then held up a hand when she made to speak. 'No, it is not that clear-cut, I'm telling you. There's something she's not saying. It's like she wants to take responsibility when she knows she didn't do it. She claims she poisoned them but there's no sign of that in Ben's post-mortem. It's possible that a genetic condition could account for both of the deaths, something passed down through Annabelle and that's what she means when she says she poisoned them.'

'Okay,' Sam said slowly, 'I take it Sheelagh doesn't agree?'

'She's compromised, Guv,' Eva answered.

'How do you mean?' she asked.

'It's not my place to say,' muttered Eva, the flicker of her eyes confirming Sam's suspicion that she knew about the baby. How that had come out during the day was irrelevant. The important fact was that Eva seemed to think it was affecting Sheelagh's judgement, something Sam had foreseen but pushed to the back of her mind, as she apparently had with so many things lately.

'All right, look,' she said after a moment, 'I'm not pulling anyone from any case. There are obviously still loose ends here. Whatever happened, Annabelle has to provide a plausible explanation for Ben's death. She hasn't done that and your job isn't over until we've got enough to get a conviction – if she's guilty. You know that and so does Sheelagh so you've still got work to do.'

Rubbing her forehead, Eva replied, 'Okay, okay. I'll...apologise.'

'Why?' Sam queried. 'What did you say?'

'Something completely out of line,' Eva said as she reached for the door handle. 'I'll see you, Guv.'

Left alone, Sam pondered what that meant. Then her mind inevitably drifted back to Sheelagh herself. Leaving her on the case had obviously been an error of judgement on her part, though it wasn't so much her head to blame as her heart. She'd decided she couldn't do anything that was going to heap pain on top of her other troubles but it looked like that had backfired. If Sam was forced to justify this mess to anybody what would she say? Sorry, but I've just realised I'm in love with Sergeant Murphy and I put my feelings above the case? That was going to go down brilliantly with the promotion board, wasn't it?

It was certain that she wasn't leaving the nick tonight until this case was either solved or both Sheelagh and Eva had gone home. She sat in her office as the light grew dim outside, alternately thinking about the paperwork she was ostensibly focused on and the case she had no investigative part in. Gradually, CID emptied and she gave up the pretence of working, sitting back instead and staring out through the doorway.

Eventually, Eva trudged back to her desk, spotting her and pivoting right. 'Didn't think you'd still be here, Guv,' she said as she leaned against the door jamb.

'What happened with the Jamesons?' Sam questioned.

Eva inhaled deeply. 'Well, I was right,' she answered. 'A genetic condition brought on by the interaction of Annabelle's genes with Warren's.'

Frowning, Sam asked, 'Does that account for both deaths?'

'Yeah, Warren was the father of both, though he didn't know about the first one. The sad thing is...' Trailing off, Eva scrubbed her chin. 'It was treatable, Guv. If Annabelle had told the truth about what happened to the first baby, Ben's death could've been prevented. She didn't want to get attached to Ben because she knew he'd be taken away from her.'

Sam took all that in and leaned back in her chair. 'I can hardly imagine what she must be going through.' Pausing, she then asked carefully, 'What about Sergeant Murphy? Did you have any more problems?'

'No, Guv, it's fine, honestly.' Eva gestured to her desk. 'I'm gonna get out of here, I think. Got a sudden urge to give Joanna and Sammy the biggest hugs of their lives.'

Smiling weakly, Sam watched her go. As soon as the main doors to CID clapped shut, though, she was on her feet and heading down to the Sergeants' Office, almost on autopilot. Part of her feared Sheelagh would've left already but she hadn't. The door was shut but the blinds were open, showing her staring into space at her desk, much as Sam had been for much of the afternoon.

Knocking once, she stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Sheelagh glanced up anxiously then her shoulders slumped. It was as though she'd been gearing up for a fight and now suddenly realised she didn't need to mount one. At least that's what Sam hoped it was. It could easily be that Sheelagh had just given up. Turning around, she closed the blinds then took a seat.

'How are you doing?' she asked.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I made a complete mess of things, didn't I?'

'It wasn't your fault,' Sam said firmly. 'There were plenty of reasons to mistrust Annabelle Jameson. Besides,' she added, 'as your senior officer –'

'Don't,' Sheelagh interrupted. 'You only agreed to let me continue on the case because I asked.'

'That shouldn't have mattered,' she insisted.

'But it did,' Sheelagh replied quietly. 'I've put you in a difficult position.'

'At the moment, I don't care about any of that,' Sam said firmly, waiting for Sheelagh to look at her and believe her. 'But you do need to be on light duties, you know that.'

Sighing, Sheelagh said, 'Eva knows I'm pregnant. She said that I was accusing Annabelle because I feel guilty about not wanting my own baby.'

Sam swallowed down her anger, sensing that Sheelagh wasn't finished.

'She's right,' she continued finally. 'If I had a choice I'd wish it away in a second. I told Des earlier that I don't care if something bad happens. I'm tempting fate –that's why I haven't told Inspector Gold, that's why I don't want to be on light duties. I don't want the baby. There – now you know the truth.'

'Sheelagh,' Sam said gently, 'I think anyone in your position would be feeling like that. Maybe that's why you tried not to think about it for so long. You couldn't ever have an abortion, you're having this baby whatever else happens. So let me help,' she went on, 'talk to me. You're not alone, I promise you.'

There was a long moment where she thought Sheelagh might fall apart but she didn't. Instead, the offer seemed to seep into her slowly and then she seemed more like herself. It was as if she'd suddenly realised she wasn't alone and the worst – whatever she'd thought might've happened when they had this conversation – hadn't occurred.

Feeling her yield, Sam continued, 'Okay, so you're pregnant and the baby isn't Patrick's. What happens now?'

Sheelagh picked up a pen and squashed it between her fingers. 'I can't lie to Patrick for the the rest of my life. I feel like I've been in a pressure cooker for the last four months. Longer,' she admitted, 'ever since I first thought about Des, I've been betraying him one way or the other. I can't live with that.'

'Then what?' probed Sam carefully. 'You'll tell him the truth, that the baby isn't his?'

'If I do that my marriage is finished,' Sheelagh answered, blinking back tears. 'He couldn't bring up another man's child, not after everything we've been through together. And that means the kids –'

'Hey,' Sam cut in, 'one thing at a time, okay? Focus on Patrick for me. If there's a chance he would accept the baby, is that what you'd want?'

Slowly, Sheelagh shook her head. 'I can't forget it, even if he thinks he could.'

Though it pained her even to think it, Sam had to ask, 'And where does Des fit into this then? Do you want a relationship with him? Is that a possibility?'

'I don't know,' replied Sheelagh, dropping the pen onto the desk. 'I don't know. He says he wants to do right by the baby but...'

'You need to talk to him,' Sam said. When Sheelagh grimaced she added, 'If you feel that way about it then maybe there's your answer.'

For more than a minute Sheelagh was silent. Sam took the opportunity to avert her gaze and try to order her feelings. Hearing that Sheelagh's marriage was in pieces shouldn't have given her a slither of satisfaction. She was trying to be a good friend here, despite the fact that she was still looking at Sheelagh with a new sense of appreciation. That she could picture herself unbuttoning her shirt and sliding her hand inside was an image Sam could only arrest by remembering the baby, Des's baby. It formed a tangible barrier between what she'd suddenly decided she wanted and what she could actually have.

'You're right,' Sheelagh said eventually. 'I've got to know what he wants.'

Sam rose to her feet, stretching out. 'And, in the meantime, try and get some rest for me. You've had a rough few days. Don't think I've forgotten your promise either. You need to tell Gina tomorrow or it'll be my head on a platter when she finds out, right next to yours.'

Sheelagh nodded and also stood, rounding the desk hesitantly. Then she stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. For a brief moment Sam was acutely aware of all the places their bodies were touching, igniting a flame inside her that proved hard to quell when Sheelagh drew back. Perhaps Sheelagh put her blush down to embarassment because the small smile on her face was the closest to a true one Sam had seen all day.

'Night,' Sheelagh said softly.

Sam couldn't resist: she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the tingle on her lips as she withdrew. 'Goodnight,' she replied, groping for the door handle.

It was only when she was halfway up the staircase that she realised she was practically floating. One platonic kiss on the cheek and everything seemed different all of a sudden. She'd rubbished this kind of thing in the past as cliched romance. Even with Glenn it had taken time, time to get to know him – so she'd thought – and time to accept she was attracted to him. With Sheelagh she'd cycled through that acceptance in twenty-four hours flat. But, then, it had been brewing for longer than that, hadn't it? She knew she loved her now because she'd spent months falling for everything about her, from the forthright way she walked into her office when nobody else would dare to the amused look on her face when she discovered that one of her guilty pleasures was ABBA at top volume as she drove home.

All that rubbish about opposites attracting – she'd thought that was a load of cliched crap as well. But Sheelagh was about as different to her as she could be. All the baby stuff aside, she was caring, a good listener, intuitive in things beyond police matters. Sam envied her that at times, envied her patience. She didn't have much energy for dealing with people's petty grievances but Sheelagh was brilliant at smoothing the way. Look at what she'd done for her over the months, though Sam vainly believed part of that was because of their friendship, not just because it was what Sheelagh Murphy did as a matter of course.

Reaching her office, she dropped into her chair as her usually-rapid brain caught up with her. It didn't matter how she felt about Sheelagh after all. This was like coming up on the lottery and being unable to cash the winning ticket – she'd managed to fall for someone who wouldn't – couldn't – reciprocate and who was pregnant following an extra-marital affair to boot.

Sobered, she methodically packed up and turned the computer off, her gaze lingering on the picture of Abi she kept on the desk. Then she managed a small smile and set off out of the station. When she reached the front office she found her feet turning left instead of right and stopped in front of Marilyn behind the desk.

'Do you know if Sergeant Murphy's gone yet?' she questioned.

Marilyn glanced up. 'I haven't seen her. Do you want me to give her a call?'

'No, no,' she answered, 'it'll keep.'

With a curt nod, she walked out into the cool air. While she knew she should go straight to her car, something compelled her to stay. She wanted to make sure that Sheelagh left the station and that she didn't stay in her office dwelling on what had happened, both professionally and personally. So she stood in the shadows just out of sight of the door and watched, just intending to stay for a few minutes then return inside and remind Sheelagh to leave the building.

That wasn't necessary though. Before she'd checked her watch for the first time the door opened and Sheelagh came out – followed by Des. They were physically close, Sam realised, and a fresh jolt of jealousy shook her. Her eyes followed them across the road towards the car park then she shrank back around the corner to avoid being seen. She felt hollow all of a sudden, as if the last day had torn the fight right out of her. Slowly, she detached herself from the wall and walked to her own car, her mind replaying the way Des had pressed his arm briefly around Sheelagh's waist as though he had the right to over and over again.

* * *

She didn't sleep any better that night and this time a strong coffee wasn't much use. She'd made her mind up, though, that she was damned if this was going to get the better of her. Stubbornly, she went up to her office and checked in with every single member of her team, startling Rob by demanding far more information on his current cases than he could supply without difficulty. She warned him to give her an update later and heard him grumbling to Brandon as she turned back to her office.

Sat at her desk, she fired off some emails and was in the process of completing a report for the DCI when there was a knock on the open door.

'I've got a few reports for you, Guv.'

The familiar sound of Sheelagh's voice shivered through her. Putting her pen down, she steeled herself for a moment before she trusted herself to look up and even then she was assaulted by the sight of her friend on the threshold. Clearing her throat, she gestured for her to push the door shut and watched Sheelagh perch on the edge of the chair opposite.

'How are you feeling today?' Sam questioned.

'Physically, I feel fine,' Sheelagh replied then she hesitated. 'What we were talking about last night... Des came to see me not long after you left.'

Sam tried to keep her face clear. 'Right...'

'He asked me to leave Patrick,' Sheelagh said, focusing on her hands. 'I said yes.'

Though she'd guessed as much, the words still hit her with force. She laced her fingers together under cover of the desk and asked, 'Is that what you want?'

Sheelagh raised her chin. 'I can't stay with Patrick, not after what I've done. If Des wants us to be a family, with Siobhan and the boys as well, I have to give it a chance.'

Swallowing, Sam forced herself to question, 'Do you love him?'

A sad smile crept onto Sheelagh's face as she nodded. 'I wish I didn't but I do.'

Out of sight, Sam clenched her fingers together until they numbed. She hoped that her discomfort wasn't remotely visible on her face – she didn't know how the hell to explain it and, really, this was what she should've expected to hear after last night. She knew in her heart that Sheelagh wouldn't have gotten herself into this mess in the first place unless it was more than just lust plaguing her.

'Okay,' she said finally, her voice miraculously level. 'Now you need to stick to your side of the bargain and tell Gina you're pregnant.'

'I will,' Sheelagh promised, standing. 'I'll do it now.'

'Thank you,' Sam answered. 'No more heroics, you hear me? You look after yourself and you look after the baby.'

With another tired nod, Sheelagh tugged the door open and left. As soon as she was alone, Sam took a long, shuddering breath and pressed her lips together. Then she forced herself to pick her pen back up, to focus on the file at hand. It was a struggle but this was what she did after all – Abi had berated her for it in the past but it might just see her through right now.

She didn't know how long she'd been absorbed in her work when Gina swept into the office without warning, slamming the door behind her. Sam frowned at the uncharacterisically demonstrative display and watched her friend as she prowled the office.

'Is this a guessing game?' she asked when no explanation was forthcoming.

Gina spun around, her hands on her hips. 'Who's the father of that baby? Tell me you know.'

The seriousness of her tone was unmistakable. 'I do,' she said.

'All right.' Gina paused and scrubbed her chin, belatedly sitting down. 'Sally Johnson has been stirring up trouble for the last few days, you must've heard about it.'

'Jack implied that her digging was the reason Danny Glaze did a moonlight flit but he clammed up when I pressed him about it. I had to rush off to the cot death case and, to be honest, it slipped my mind.' Sam crossed her arms. 'Gina, what's the connection?'

'Sally Johnson alleges that Geoff Simpson was fitted up for the firebombing,' Gina explained. 'It was Des and Danny who allegedly heard him confess. The fact that Danny's done a runner doesn't exactly scream 'innocent', does it?'

'Please tell me you're joking,' Sam said.

Gina sucked in her breath. 'It is Des's baby, isn't it?'

Given the circumstances, Sam didn't feel like she was betraying Sheelagh much by nodding. 'What's Johnson after?' she asked.

'An acquittal for Simpson,' Gina muttered. 'And she's not gonna stop until she gets it. She's already pushed Jack to involve the DPS. I didn't fancy admitting this to him but... I reckon Des is in this up to his neck. You remember your first day?'

She smiled briefly. 'Investigating Reg's kidnap by Simpson's thugs, yeah.' Halting, she chewed on her lip. 'What did you think of Des's behaviour at the time? I wasn't focused on him, though I do recall he wasn't especially helpful. In hindsight, that's not unusual with Des Taviner.'

'That as may be,' Gina said, 'but he was obstructive. He put Reg's life in danger.'

Sam silently contemplated that for a few seconds. Then she asked, 'How much is this talked about downstairs?'

'You mean how much does Sheelagh know?' Gina retorted. When Sam shrugged, she continued, 'She'll have heard the headlines but not the detail. Could be that she's picked up something with Sally Johnson poking around.'

'She's had other things on her mind,' Sam replied, massaging her neck.

'I bet.' Gina paused. 'How long have you known about the baby?'

'A few days,' she admitted. 'I pushed her to tell you.'

'Frankly, that's the least of my problems right now,' said Gina, standing up and approaching the door. Then she turned back. 'You know the other thing, don't you? Today's the unveiling of the memorial plaque for the victims of the fire. Sally Johnson couldn't have picked a better time to stir up a bloody hornets' nest.'

Leaving her with that thought, Gina left the office, the door rattling in its frame again. This time, Sam didn't even muster the pretence of work. She stood up and moved to the window, looking down into the yard and remembering the accounts of the Sun Hill fire that had preceded her arrival at the station. She couldn't shake the feeling that the accusations against Des rang true. Why else would Danny cut and run?

Was it possible that Sheelagh had just agreed to leave her husband for a man who might be charged with perjury any day now? An investigation by the DPS was going to be thorough and Sally Johnson's tenacity didn't bode well. Of course, if Des was guilty of what she was accusing him of then he needed to be brought to account. But there was no way of doing that without Sheelagh being hurt in the process. However jealous Sam had found herself in the last forty-eight hours she couldn't countenance wishing any sort of pain on Sheelagh. The fallout from this was going to be horrific.

As a senior officer, she was naturally expected to attend the plaque unveiling outside the front of the station. However, she took another look at the email announcing the dedication and she balked – Des was meant to be making a speech. She couldn't stand there and watch that, not knowing what she did about the ongoing enquiries. If Sheelagh attended she'd be sure to spot her unease. The one person she was trying to keep secrets from again was the one person who could read her like a book. Whatever the outcome of this Des business, it struck Sam all of a sudden that she was going to be concealing at least one thing from Sheelagh for the foreseeable future – no, forever; since she couldn't see any circumstances where unburdening her feelings to Sheelagh would seem like the right thing to do. It was ironic, really, that the moment Sheelagh had shattered the barrier of the last secret between them – the pregnancy – this new one had sprung up out of nowhere. First it was Glenn then Des and now this... There was no peace, no level playing field.

Closing the blinds so that her team would assume she was out, she made a concerted effort to continue with her paperwork. It was a strange day out there and no one bothered her prior to the plaque dedication. She knew she was clock-watching, waiting for it to be over but not knowing exactly what sign she expected to see when it was. However, she should've realised that it would come in the very tangible form of a knock at the door.

'Come in,' she called softly.

Sheelagh pushed the door open, her face worn. 'Aren't you coming downstairs to the buffet?'

Sam shook her head. 'How did the dedication go?'

'It...' Glancing over her shoulder, Sheelagh stepped inside and closed the door, leaning against it heavily. 'Des couldn't make his speech. He just ran off.'

Reaching for her coffee cup, she remembered just in time it was clap cold and let her hand fall back. She knew that Sheelagh hadn't missed her attempt to cover her unease – it was probably flashing in neon on her face.

'What do you know?' Sheelagh asked.

'Nothing,' she said unconvincingly.

'Don't,' murmured Sheelagh. 'Please don't you lie to me. What's going on?'

'I don't know anything for sure,' she admitted, inwardly wondering how many direct questions she was going to be compelled to answer in the future and how the hell she was going to manage it. 'You know Sally Johnson's been poking around, don't you?'

Sheelagh nodded. 'She had a go at him in the front office the other day. But I thought she was just mouthing off.' Her brow furrowed further. 'Are you saying there's more to it?'

'Whether it's for the sake of argument or not,' Sam said carefully, 'Jack's speaking to the DPS.'

The change in Sheelagh's expression was miniscule but it was enough for Sam to stand and round the desk, ready to catch her if necessary. Holding up a hand, Sheelagh steadied herself and her jaw set.

'I'm having this out with him, once and for all.' Dragging open the door, she glanced back. 'Thank you for being honest with me. Nobody else is.'

Sam shrugged that away, knowing there was no plausible reply. Standing in the middle of her office, she listened as Sheelagh fled through CID and heard the doors creak open and closed. Everybody else was downstairs, paying their respects and picking at the buffet. The silence was practically ringing in her ears. Slowly, she returned to her desk then changed her mind and walked to the window, looking again into the yard and picturing the old one instead.

She was surprised to see Des appear with a young black lad and open up one of the cars across by the wall. Dredging her memory, she recalled that Di Worrell had a son, probably about this age. The way he was with the boy was disarming, fatherly even. Sam watched it with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she didn't want Sheelagh sacrificing her marriage and comfortable family life to be with someone who wasn't going to give her any support. From the look of this, Des could be a good father if he wanted to be – and if he got the chance. However, that realisation reignited the jealousy in the pit of her stomach. That was accentuated when Sheelagh suddenly appeared by the car and motioned Des away for a chat. Whatever they discussed, it wasn't comfortable for either of them but, again, there was that physical intimacy that Sam envied. She was going to have to school herself into silence in the future where Des was concerned. That was assuming, of course, that there was actually a future where Des was concerned.

Outside, Sheelagh walked away and Des returned to the boy in the car. Sam sighed and turned back to her desk, dropping into her chair and reaching for her paperwork as a matter of course.

People gradually filtered back upstairs, mostly to collect their bags and coats. None of them bothered her and she didn't feel inclined to badger any of them either. Truth be told, she was only staying fixed to her desk because the prospect of going home was even less appetising. The last couple of nights she'd arrived home late and left Abi to her own devices, getting the same treatment in return. Tonight she might not get away with that and she couldn't fathom how her intelligent daughter might react to her current mood. She didn't feel particularly in control and she knew that her instinct was to lash out when she got like this. She'd done it before, pushing Sheelagh away when she felt out of control about Abi and Glenn. Even if she could feel herself doing it, she couldn't seem to stop herself sometimes. The last thing she wanted was another fracture with Abi, still less for her daughter to work out something was wrong with her.

So she buried herself in her never-ending stack of paperwork, intent on prolonging her working day for as long as possible. It was growing dark outside when someone fumbled with the door and stumbled in. Her instincts made her jump up and move around the desk, meaning that Sheelagh practically ran into her.

'Whoa, hey,' Sam said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kicking the door shut. 'What's happened, what's wrong?'

Sheelagh just shook her head, tears dribbling down her cheeks. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what? Here – sit down,' she added, helping her into a chair then kneeling beside her, much as she had yesterday morning. 'You don't need to apologise to me.'

'You can't be doing much work with me bursting in here every five minutes,' Sheelagh muttered, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Sam snorted and busied herself with digging out a tissue. Instead of bothering to offer the packet this time, she went through the ritual of drying Sheelagh's tears herself, wondering how transparent she looked. To mask her discomfort she rose to dispose of the tissue in the bin then took the opportunity to return to her own seat.

'What's wrong?' she repeated.

Sheelagh's eyes flickered. 'I can't...'

While her copper's instinct told her to push, Sam yielded to the more reticent portion of her brain, the part that dreaded hearing information about Sheelagh's relationship with Des. It was obviously him that had done this to her, unless...

'Does Patrick know?' she asked quietly.

'No,' Sheelagh murmured, reaching for another tissue.

Sam just nodded, uncertain of how to proceed. She wouldn't – couldn't – probe into the Des situation. She was hardly unbiased and, besides, with all these allegations swirling around him, she couldn't help but feel she was better off not knowing. Any further conflict between her loyalty towards Sheelagh and her loyalty towards the job wasn't a situation she wanted to find herself in, the Jameson case had been bad enough. If her brain was only using that as a cover to avoid her jealousy kicking in again then she'd gladly take it.

'Okay,' she said finally, checking her watch. 'Has your shift finished?'

Raising her chin, Sheelagh looked at her strangely for a few seconds, as though waiting for the interrogation. Then she answered, 'Ten minutes ago.'

'Are you all right to go home?' Sam questioned. 'I mean, you can stay here for as long as you want, I just –'

'Patrick's working the late shift,' Sheelagh interrupted with a pained smile. 'I've got to get home and make sure the boys haven't wrecked the place.'

Sam studied her, affection swirling around her stomach. 'You know, the house won't fall apart if you put yourself first tonight,' she said. 'You look like you need a break.'

'I'm okay,' Sheelagh replied.

Pursing her lips, Sam began shutting down her computer. 'I'm at least walking you to your car.'

'No, no, I've got to get changed and –'

'I'll wait,' she interjected. 'And that wasn't an opening for a debate by the way.'

Though her argument showed in her face, Sheelagh wisely swallowed it down. It only took Sam a minute to throw her things together and she grabbed her coat from the hook, spinning back to face Sheelagh with a firm expression on her face. When she held out a hand Sheelagh's lips twitched and she hooked her own fingers into it, allowing Sam to pull her up. Whether it was fatigue or a dizzy spell, Sheelagh wavered and Sam caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady them both. It was only a few moments before she disentangled herself but it was enough to make her flush and she prayed it hadn't been noted.

'That's a reminder not to ask me to dance,' Sheelagh said with a wry smile.

'Maybe one day I'll take my chances,' Sam replied before she could stop herself. To cover her embarrassment, she yanked the door open and ushered Sheelagh through. 'Come on.'

That Sheelagh would be going into the locker room to get changed didn't permeate her brain until they were right outside, and then it was too late to backtrack. After all, there was nothing unusual in this, it was just what people did at the end of the day. But, suddenly, she was acutely aware that Sheelagh would be changing her shirt, changing out of her work trousers and, despite her breathing quickening, she was more panicked than anything else.

Sheelagh moved past her and went inside. 'It'll only take a minute.'

Sam hesitated in the doorway then shook herself and walked through, letting the door swing shut behind her. Sheelagh had gone to a locker that around the other side, giving Sam at least an opportunity to hang back around the bank of lockers closest to the door. This was almost worse, imagining what was going on just out of sight. She combated it by remembering that even if she could see Sheelagh what would likely be the compelling feature would be her swollen stomach. That was enough to cool her down a touch, though her cheeks were probably still flaming.

'How's Abigail?' Sheelagh called.

Sam deposited her bag at her feet and slipped her hands into her pockets. 'She wants a tattoo,' she answered. 'So normal service has resumed really.'

Sheelagh let out a weak chuckle, an attempt to sound like herself. 'I can imagine the response.'

'It was colourful,' Sam admitted. 'But she took it well. I rather enjoyed it actually.'

'I bet,' Sheelagh answered and there was the rustle of clothing. A hanger in her locker thwacked against the metal and creaked back and forth. After a moment, she continued, 'When I came to see you, when you were on leave after the whole Glenn thing...'

Sam's mouth, perilously dry already, felt like a desert all of a sudden. The recollection of having Sheelagh in her house – sat at her kitchen table, filling in her crossword clues and leaving smiley faces on the bottom of the page – took on a new flavour. Sheelagh had asked her that day if she had room in her life for a man. What had she said? Something about being able to let the right person in but insisting it wasn't going to happen. In hindsight that morning seemed so different.

'Sam?' Sheelagh prompted.

She cleared her throat. 'I remember.'

'We were talking about Abi and...reminding you of Glenn,' said Sheelagh slowly. 'Whether she did or not, whether she was anything like him.'

Leaning her shoulder against the nearest locker, Sam swallowed. 'I remember,' she repeated.

There was an excruciating pause and the sound of Sheelagh pulling on her trousers and zipping them up before she asked, 'I know you love Abigail. You're her mother, of course you do. But did you...'

Despite her reservations, Sam found herself rounding the bank of lockers, finding Sheelagh about to pull on a t-shirt. The image of her in her bra imprinted itself on Sam's brain before she could do anything about it then she forced her eyes upwards. Sheelagh tugged her t-shirt over her head, her small bump more visible now than it was in her police uniform. Self-consciously, she ran her hands over it and reached for her jacket.

Now it was Sam's turn to prompt, 'Sheelagh?'

She took a few deep breaths. 'Did you worry she might be like him – inside?'

'Yes,' she murmured, scrutinising Sheelagh's face. Whatever Des had told her today had carved a hole right into her; she looked as though she was haunted. 'But the important thing is that she wasn't. Like I said, she's me through and through.'

'Yes, but –'

'She wasn't,' Sam interrupted firmly, stretching a hand to Sheelagh's arm. 'Come on, you need to get home, out of this place.'

Sheelagh clenched her jaw but nodded and took her boots to the bench, struggling with the laces. Sam bit back her urge to press forward and help her, realising that something as fundamental as dressing was something that Sheelagh needed to do on her own. She dipped her eyes and let Sheelagh fumble until she made knots on both boots then she shakily stood and returned to her locker. Grabbing her bag, she slammed the door and rested her forehead against it briefly.

Now Sam did step forward, hooking her arm through Sheelagh's. 'I don't know about trusting you to drive home safely,' she said.

Sheelagh allowed herself to be led to the door then she murmured, 'Your bag.'

'Right, yeah...'

With a grimace, she backtracked and retrieved it. At least it gave Sheelagh a smile as they trudged along the corridor, making Sam feel marginally better about her unease that Sheelagh couldn't fail to notice. She only hoped that she attributed it to friendly concern rather than anything else.

They probably cut a strange pair, walking through to the front office with identical preoccupied expressions. Sam didn't need to look sideways to know how drained Sheelagh looked, nor did she need a mirror to realise how altered she appeared in the last few days. She was amazed that Sheelagh hadn't picked up it but perhaps she was too lost in her own pain.

Outside in the late summer breeze, Sheelagh nearly buckled under the slight pressure. Sam pressed an arm around her waist, steering her towards where she knew she usually parked her car. However, all at once she felt Sheelagh stiffen. Following her glance, Sam saw Des hanging around in the shadows, his jacket glistening under the street lamps. Instantly, her grip on Sheelagh's waist tightened and she felt Sheelagh lean against her.

'Come on,' Sam said, refusing to let their joint steps falter.

When they reached the car Sheelagh paused and looked around apprehensively. Then she refocused on Sam. 'Thank you.'

'I didn't do anything,' she returned, clumping her free hand into her pocket. 'Go on. My job's not done until you're in that car and driving home. Go on,' she repeated when Sheelagh hesitated. 'I'm right here.'

Slowly, Sheelagh went through the motions of getting into the car and starting the engine. She glanced through the side window once, smiled, and then drove away sluggishly. Sam was left in the car park alone, distant from her own car but not really caring. It took her a few moments to remember that she couldn't stand there all night. With a wry smile at her own stupidity, she threaded her way through the cars until she found hers.

'I bet you reckon you're smart, don't you?' Though the voice startled her she endeavoured not to show it.

'Problem, PC Taviner?' she queried, unlocking her car and tossing her bag onto the back seat. Resting casually against the door, she tried to pretend she didn't know anything about his alleged misdeeds or that he was the father of Sheelagh's baby.

'What were you doing with Sergeant Murphy just then?' he demanded.

She bristled. 'I was walking my friend to her car because she was feeling under the weather. In her condition, that's hardly surprising, is it?'

Uncertainty flickered across his face. 'Friend?' he said.

'Yes, Des,' she retorted. 'It's common knowledge around here that Sheelagh and I are friends. Anybody paying the slightest bit of attention would've noticed.'

That blow struck home. Intermingled with her jealousy of Des was suddenly a surge of pity – he really had no idea, did he? Somehow he'd persuaded Sheelagh to go to bed with him, he'd got her pregnant and he'd just promised her to be there for her if she left her husband, but he didn't know her. Was that his fault or Sheelagh's? Well, she'd hardly been subtle in the last few months about their friendship. If Tony Stamp had noticed for God's sake, if he'd had the intelligence to bring a concern about Sheelagh's welfare to her instead of Gina, then why hadn't Des seen it? Unless... Another thought irresistibly burrowed into her brain. Had Sheelagh deliberately kept their friendship away from Des's attention? If she had, what did that mean?

'Night, Guv,' Des muttered abruptly, sliding off into the shadows like a phantom.

She stood still for another minute, schooling herself away from the enticing thought that had lurched into her head. If Des didn't know about her relationship with Sheelagh then it must be his own ignorance showing itself. Sheelagh had no reason to hide it – to her they were just friends. What else could they be?

Settling in the driving seat, Sam leaned forward and rested her head briefly on the steering wheel. Then she sat bolt upright and ground the engine ferociously into life. She had to get a grip. She was going to be no use to her colleagues, Abi or Sheelagh at this rate.

* * *

The next day she made a concerted effort to harass her team. She knew how little they appreciated it from the grumbles as she returned to her office but at least she knew she was doing her job properly today. By half past nine she had a clear idea of everyone's caseload and was already mentally shuffling things about if, for instance, Ken failed to make headway with a spate of aggravated robberies he was working on. She liked this sort of puzzle, liked it almost as much profiling criminals and banging them up afterwards. It was a part of the job she'd expected to hate, managing people, and she was surprised to realise she'd miss it if she didn't make the permanent DI's role. Though with her exam results due any day now, she'd know soon enough if the role was going to be an option or not.

Focusing on the job took her mind superficially off Sheelagh. As soon as the flurry of activity in CID had died down and she was stuck in her office while her team ranted about her on the opposite side of the door, she found her mind ticking back to what the hell had happened with Sheelagh last night and how she was today.

It was plain that Des had said something which had massively disturbed her equilibrium. The two options, in Sam's eyes, were that he'd backtracked on his original offer to make a go of it or that he'd admitted to perjury. Which of those was worse? Either way Sheelagh was going to end up as single mother in a mess – if she insisted on being honest with Patrick, that is. Sam had no reason to believe she could backtrack on that decision. She'd seen what the guilt had done to Sheelagh over the last few months and she knew that it was unsustainable. Her desire to ignore the idea of the baby had put both of them in danger. More than anything else, Sam knew she had to prevent that happening again.

She had to nip down to custody to check on Ken's progress with a suspect he'd brought in. After that her route, quite naturally, took her past the Sergeants' Office but it was empty. Despite the fact that she was metres from the back staircase, she spun around and went to the next logical place – the bathrooms. Sure enough, Sheelagh was there, leaning against the sink with a vacant expression on her face. She didn't even hear the door open. Her detachment gave Sam a greedy moment to examine her then she cleared her face and stepped forward.

'Hey,' she said gently.

It must've been her familiar voice that made Sheelagh jump out of her skin. Resting her hands over her stomach, she attempted a smile. 'Morning.'

'You look miles away,' Sam said.

Turning to the sink, Sheelagh rinsed her hands then took her time drying them. Sam recognised it for the distraction technique it was but didn't draw attention to it. After a minute or so, Sheelagh murmured, 'I'm going to tell Patrick tonight.'

Now Sam felt the need to lean on something. In what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, she turned her shoulder to the wall. 'Okay,' she said slowly.

Not for the first time in recent days, Sheelagh looked at her as though she'd grown another head. In fairness it felt like she had. 'Why aren't you asking more questions?'

'Would that make things easier on you?' she retorted.

'No,' Sheelagh admitted, 'but I like knowing what you think. It's one less thing I have to guess about.'

That made her shoulders slump. 'I don't mean to be another problem for you to catalogue,' she said.

Sheelagh covered her face briefly. 'I didn't mean that. I just... You're holding back what you think, aren't you? You think I'm crazy.'

'I don't,' Sam said sincerely. 'I understand why you can't lie to Patrick.'

'But?' Sheelagh pressed.

'You were very upset last night, that's all,' she answered. 'I don't know if you're thinking clearly.'

Taking a long breath, Sheelagh muttered, 'I'm thinking of my baby.'

'Well, that I can empathise with,' Sam said, pushing off from the wall and approaching Sheelagh gingerly. 'I'm not asking you to tell me what's going on because I'm pretty certain that if you do...'

She let the sentence trail off and Sheelagh managed a weak smile. 'I don't want to involve you in my mess,' she said, 'not if I can help it.'

'So we understand each other,' Sam said, though she couldn't shake the feeling that they really didn't. 'I just want to make sure that you know what you're doing.'

'I don't,' Sheelagh admitted, biting down on her lip.

Sam sighed and reached out a hand to her shoulder. 'If you do need to talk about it... It won't go any further.'

Sheelagh's head snapped up. 'You can't promise that.'

'I can,' she said firmly. 'As far as I'm concerned, we've never had this conversation.'

'I can't put you in that position,' answered Sheelagh with an air of finality she couldn't mistake.

Sam attempted a smile. 'You do what you need to do with Patrick,' she said. 'You know where I am if you need anything. I don't care what,' she added.

Meeting her eye, Sheelagh inhaled deeply and stepped towards the door. 'I'd better call Patrick, check he's going to be in later.'

'Are you sure about this?' Sam questioned before she could help herself.

With the door halfway open, Sheelagh glanced back. 'No,' she murmured as she stepped out into the bustle of the corridor.

Left alone in the bathroom, Sam sighed. All that conversation had told her was that Des had admitted something to Sheelagh that she couldn't pass on – he'd admitted to the perjury. Sam wished she was able to judge Sheelagh for her reticence but she understood it too well, except her reluctance to tell Abi the truth about Glenn was based on a crime with time served instead of something primed for prosecution. This was a dangerous game, one that she wished Sheelagh wasn't involved in.

* * *

Concentrating on work that afternoon was difficult. Her mind kept tripping back to what might be going on with Sheelagh, how she was feeling about her decision, whether she'd be able to live with keeping Des's perjury secret. She could hardly ask her any of those questions outright so perhaps it was best that she didn't have another opportunity to go downstairs.

'Guv, have you heard?'

Sam looked up sharply at Eva's voice in the doorway. 'Heard what?'

'The area car's crashed into a warehouse, it's on fire,' Eva said. 'Smithy called it in but looks like Des and Reg are inside.'

She'd dropped her pen and was halfway around the desk before she realised it. 'Where's Sergeant Murphy?' she asked.

Eva's brow creased. 'Dunno, Guv, why? She won't be dealing with it.'

She swallowed. 'What about Inspector Gold?'

'CAD I think,' Eva said.

'Okay, thanks,' she said, patting her arm as she slipped past.

The station was in uproar, reminding Sam of the stampede to attend when Matt Boyden had been shot. She'd remained upstairs back then, drifting to the window and watching uniform responding, waiting for the confirmation call before gravitating towards the one person she always gravitated towards when something went wrong around here. And now she was almost the last person she wanted to see as she rushed downstairs, at least not until she knew what the hell was going on.

She located Gina outside CAD, resting her head back against the wall and looking faintly sick.

'Gina?' she said as she skidded to a halt beside her.

Glancing at her, she saw the question in her eyes. 'She doesn't know, she's not in the station. The Super needed a lift to the Yard.'

'Well, that's something,' Sam muttered. 'What happened?'

Gina shook her head. 'No one knows yet. Area car was in pursuit, Smithy and Tony assisting. Pursued suspect into a warehouse and the whole thing went up. Smithy pulled Reg from the car but couldn't see Des.'

'Couldn't get to him or couldn't see him?' pressed Sam.

'I don't know, I don't know.' Gina dug her nails into her forehead. 'I'm not sure when Sheelagh's due back.'

'You can't let her walk into this blind,' Sam said.

Gina sighed then nodded her agreement. She motioned them out of the thoroughfare, heading to the briefing room as the nearest source of peace. She pulled out her mobile and dialled, explaining, 'He'll answer if he knows it's me.'

Sam tapped her heel as she waited, unable to stem the thoughts whizzing through her brain. Whatever had happened out there was going to hit Sheelagh like a ton of bricks. She was pregnant, she'd already been hospitalised once in the last week because of the stress of her situation. Hearing that Des was missing, probably dead, was going to put her baby's life in danger, maybe even her own.

'Sir,' Gina said suddenly as Adam evidently answered the call. 'We've got a serious incident on our hands, we need you back here. The area car's crashed and the building it crashed into has exploded. PC Hollis is seriously injured, he's been taken to hospital. PC Taviner is still missing.' She listened for a moment. 'Good, good,' she said. 'And Sergeant Murphy's still with you?' Another pause and her expession altered. 'Oh. Well, I'll see you back here then.'

As soon as she hung up, Sam questioned, 'What? What's wrong?'

Gina scratched her cheek. 'Sheelagh didn't take him to the Yard.'

Sam stared at her. 'So where the hell is she?'

'I don't know!' The flicker of panic that crossed her face was minute but it was enough to set Sam's stomach on fire. Steadying herself, Gina checked her watch. 'She's giving evidence at Polly's trial later. Could be she decided she didn't want to risk getting stuck at the Yard and just passed the job on.'

'Well, she can't be in the station,' Sam argued.

'No,' Gina conceded. 'Listen, I have to coordinate. Find her, would you? At the court if all else fails.' Heading for the door, she paused and glanced back. 'Maybe she's better off out of it until we know whether he's dead or not.'

Leaving her with that thought, Gina swept off back towards CAD. Sam was slower to exit, not liking the implications that statement threw up anymore than she appreciated the desolation of the station at the moment. It was too quiet, too foreboding.

While she was downstairs she checked everywhere plausible for Sheelagh – custody, the bathroom, the canteen, the locker room, the front office. No one she spoke to had seen her for at least the last hour. It wasn't like Sheelagh to disappear off-radar like this, especially not when she was supposed to be on restricted duties. It could be that she'd gone to the court early but Sam didn't buy that – they spent enough time hanging around those buildings without arriving two hours before the start of proceedings. No – something was amiss and she didn't like it.

The way she saw it, there were two options: Sheelagh actually had heard of the crash and was at the scene already or, worse, something had happened with the baby and she'd taken herself off to hospital. The first Sam could check, and she was heading back to CAD when Ken collared her.

'Guv,' he said, 'a Mr Hyten is here to see you, says he's got an appointment.'

She growled but nodded her thanks. Mr Hyten was a particularly grouchy assault victim she'd smoothed things over with a few weeks ago. She forgot that she'd asked him to come in to discuss a potential complaint and it wasn't the kind of thing she could get out of easily. Her only hope was that she could get the conversation over with quickly.

Half an hour later and she was on her way to court, recognising that Sheelagh's turn to give evidence was much closer now than it had been before. She managed to get stuck in a traffic jam the length of the High Street and beyond which set her swearing and she was a breath away from flashing her warrant card and mounting the kerb when things finally started moving again. If Sheelagh hadn't turned up there then she'd start panicking but, given her sense of responsibility, she'd probably be there come what may. Hopefully Sam hadn't missed her.

That hope seemed misplaced. Sheelagh was nowhere to be seen when she got to court but a quick word with the clerk determined that she'd given her evidence as planned. Sam hovered in the corridor outside the court then asked the clerk if any of her colleagues were listening to proceedings. Learning that June Ackland was in there gave her a moment's pause – she still wasn't happy that June had heard about the pregnancy before she had – but this was too important for petty grievances and she asked the clerk to pull her out.

When June arrived a few minutes later she seemed preoccupied. 'What are you doing here? Is this to do with the area car crash?' she asked. 'Have they found Des?'

'Where's Sheelagh?' Sam countered.

June blinked. 'What do you mean, Ma'am?'

Hiding her emotions had never been one of June's strong points from what Sam could tell. Rapidly, she assessed what she thought was going through her mind then decided she didn't have time for these games.

'Have you seen Sheelagh?' she questioned. 'It's important I find her. I know she's given her evidence so where is she?'

Gesturing them towards a bank of seats, June sat down heavily. 'She didn't know about the area car crash. I had to tell her and... Look, Samantha, with respect, I don't think it's appropriate for me –'

'Okay,' she cut in, rubbing her neck, 'I'm gonna have to assume she's told you everything. Listen, I know why hearing Des Taviner was in that car would've affected her so much. I know about the baby – that's why I'm so worried about her. Please, June, I need to find her.'

After examining her face, Jude inclined her head. 'Yeah, she was upset. I didn't realise why it was gonna be such a shock or I would've taken more care with it. She wouldn't allow me to call a car for her. She said she was going to the hospital to see Reg.'

'Thank you,' Sam murmured, spinning around.

'Samantha?' June's voice brought her back. 'There's something else you should know.'

'Go on,' she said slowly.

'Before coming to court, Sheelagh was with Patrick,' said June. 'She told him everything. He's packing a bag and leaving her tonight.'

Swearing softly, Sam dug her hands into her pockets. With one final nod at June, she turned and strode out of the court, banging shoulders with a few people and barely mustering apologies. Until she was out in the open air she didn't pause for breath then she ducked around the corner towards her car, hesitating only briefly to gather her thoughts. Then she swallowed and slipped into the driver's seat. She didn't have a clue what she was going to say to Sheelagh when she tracked her down but she'd have to work that part out when she got to the hospital.

Flashing her warrant card was at least a guaranteed way to gain access and information in situations like this. She easily tracked down Reg's room but it was empty apart from the unconscious figure with severe burns. Sam pressed her lips together, said a prayer to a God she didn't believe in, then went in search of a nurse. Holding up her warrant card again got her attention.

'I'm looking for a colleague who may have visited PC Hollis,' she explained as smoothly as she could. 'Sergeant Sheelagh Murphy – blonde, Irish.'

The nurse nodded. 'Yeah, she left a few minutes ago.'

Sam sighed. 'I don't suppose she said where she was going?'

'Sorry, no.'

'Okay, thanks,' she said, attempting a smile.

Returning to her car, she leaned back in her seat and rubbed her eyes and tried to logic this out. Sheelagh was behaving, really, just like she would under the circumstances. She was looking for answers. First she went to the hospital, hoping that Reg would be able to talk. When he wasn't... Sam turned the key in the ignition. When Reg couldn't talk the only option left for Sheelagh was to go straight to the source of the distress – the warehouse.

A quick call to Eva confirmed the accident site and it only took her a few minutes to get there. She left her car at a distance from the cordon and walked in, the stench of burning chemicals still scorching her nostrils. The firefighters were damping down and there was a clear presence of both police officers and accident investigators. It took Sam barely a minute to scan the crowd and find a familiar flash of blonde hair stood as close to the scene as she could be.

While her instinct was to approach her, Sam held back. Her goal had been to find Sheelagh and she'd done that. Now she had to consider the other problems, mainly that Sheelagh had just ended her marriage and was staring at the spot where her baby's father had just been incinerated, for want of a nicer word. Tonight she was meant to be going home and no doubt telling her other children their dad had moved out. If her kids were anything like their mother they'd demand to know why and Sheelagh had already been hospitalised once this week. Sam couldn't take that risk with her health.

One of the officers manning the cordon was a young female constable, probably from Barton Street. Ascertaining that Sheelagh's attention was fixed well away from her, Sam sidled up to the constable and flashed her warrant card.

'DI Nixon, Sun Hill,' she said with one of her best smiles. 'Don't worry, I'm not badgering you for information, I know that's down to the investigation team. I just really need a favour.' She gestured discreetly towards Sheelagh. 'That's my colleague over there, Sergeant Murphy. She was very close to the officer who's missing in there. I've got to go back to the nick for a little while but I could really do with knowing if she leaves. Would you be able to let me know if she looks like she's going? You know what it's like when it's one of your own.'

The constable nodded quickly, obviously overawed by the attempt at comradeship, exactly what Sam had been going for.

'Thank you,' she continued, pulling out her card and handing it over. 'I'll be back within the hour at the latest.'

With one last look at Sheelagh, Sam smiled at the constable and returned to her car. She'd rapidly formulated a plan, examining Sheelagh's brittle figure, and she needed to put it in motion before time ran out.

It took her twenty minutes to reach the Murphy house and she was starting to worry she'd missed Patrick. The cab wasn't in the drive and, because of that, she didn't fancy knocking on the door. She dithered in the car for a few minutes and then Patrick's taxi appeared. WIth a sigh of relief, she got out of her car and approached him before he reached his front door.

'Patrick?' she asked. 'We haven't met. I'm Samantha Nixon, I work with Sheelagh.'

A glimmer of recognition crossed his face. 'You're the DI, aren't you? Has something happened?'

'She's not injured but...' Pausing, Sam tried to phrase this in a way that didn't sound like she was asking for Patrick's help dealing with the death of his wife's lover. 'There was an incident at work today,' she continued. 'A couple of our officers were involved in a serious crash. One of them's in hospital with serious burns, the other's missing, presumed dead.'

His brow creased. 'Do I know them?'

'I can't really tell you anymore,' she replied, dodging around the issue in case Sheelagh had involved Des's name in this. 'The thing is, I know what's gone on between you and Sheelagh today, I know you're here to collect some clothes but... Listen, Patrick,' she continued, meeting his eye and conveying her sincere sympathy, 'I know this is asking a lot. I'm not asking for Sheelagh so much as the kids. She's in a state, she's not going to be able to deal with their questions.'

Crossing his arms, he muttered, 'I can't spend a night in this house with her, not after what she's done.'

'No, no, I understand,' Sam said, 'that wasn't what I was asking. I'd like to take Sheelagh home with me for the night.'

'I didn't know you were that close,' he said suspiciously.

For a fleeting moment Sam was hurt that, once more, a man in Sheelagh's life didn't seem aware of their friendship. Then a little voice whispered that there could be a reason for that – quickly drowned out by her logical side reminding her that those ideas were pure fantasy. Even so, the reason Sheelagh had been reticent about their friendship didn't really matter – they both believed in the strength of it by now, they didn't have to wave it around to prove it was important. It just was. Sam knew that, if the situation here was reversed, Sheelagh would be doing this for her.

'Sheelagh's been a great friend to me since she arrived at Sun Hill,' she explained after a few moments. 'I'm trying to repay the favour. I know you don't want to cause anymore upset for the kids than you have to. Please – stay with them tonight.'

Finally, he nodded. 'Okay. Just for one night though.'

'Thank you,' she said sincerely.

'Wait out here,' he said. 'I'll get her overnight bag.'

He disappeared into the house and she went back to the car. It was strange, she thought as she slipped into the driver's seat and felt exhaustion nipping at her muscles. Her jealousy of Des had been acute, even when she hadn't known what it was she was feeling. But with Patrick she didn't feel jealous. She almost felt an affinity with him as the unwanted one. Besides, if she could choose any man for Sheelagh now it'd be the kind, dependable husband and not the testy PC who'd been implicated in perjury before the accident in that warehouse. Sheelagh's life was in bits thanks to Des Taviner and Sam wished there was a route to alleviate her pain. For now, though, at least she could do something tangible and give Sheelagh the respite of a night away from home.

Patrick appeared just a few minutes later with a black holdall. He passed it over without a word and returned to his front door like a man who wasn't sure of his purpose in life anymore. Sam watched him close the front door and sighed. Des Taviner had a lot to answer for, even if he never would.

Before driving off, she pulled her phone out and dialled home. Abi picked up on the fifth ring.

'Hiya, sweetheart,' Sam said.

Letting out a soft groan, Abi asked, 'You're going to be late again, aren't you?'

'It's not that,' she answered. 'Is there any chance you could stay at your Aunty Caroline's tonight? Or with one of your friends?'

'Why? Wait, are you in trouble again? Is someone after you?'

Sam smiled at her daughter's concern. 'It's nothing like that. It's just... Well, Sheelagh's had some bad news and I'm bringing her home for the night.'

'Sheelagh?' Abi repeated. 'Listen, if this is a cover story and you're bringing a man back –'

'That's not it,' she cut in, feeling herself flush anyway. 'I'll fill you in when I get the chance, darling, but I do need your help in this.'

After a moment, Abi said, 'Yeah, if it's for Sheelagh. I'll go to Aunty Caroline's.

'Thank you,' Sam replied before hanging up.

Travelling back to the accident site didn't seem to take long at all. Everything was as she'd left it – the same constable on the cordon who gave her a nod when she pulled up and Sheelagh staring into the destroyed warehouse with a haunted expression on her face. Sam watched her for a minute then steeled herself and slipped inside the cordon. She approached her tentatively, not wanting to spook her.

'Hey,' she said softly.

Sheelagh slowly looked sideways, as if stirring from a dream. 'Sam...'

The broken tone of voice pierced right through her. She slipped an arm around Sheelagh's shoulders, squeezing tight. 'Come on,' she said, 'you're coming home with me.'

Frowning, Sheelagh murmured, 'I can't, I've got to... You don't know –'

'I know more than you think,' Sam interrupted, beginning to steer her away from the crash site. 'I've spoken to Patrick, he's gonna stay one more night because the kids seeing you like this won't do anybody any good. He's packed you an overnight bag, it's in the car.'

Though she allowed herself to be led to the car, it was plain Sheelagh was still confused. When Sam opened the car door for her she stood motionless. 'I don't understand.'

'Just listen to me,' Sam said firmly, meeting her eye. 'You're coming home with me. The kids are fine, Patrick's with them, so that means I can look after you and the baby. You don't have a say in this so you might as well come quietly.'

Apparently stunned, Sheelagh allowed herself to be urged into the passenger seat. After a moment of deliberation, Sam tugged on the seatbelt and stretched across her to plug it in. It brought her cheek close to Sheelagh's lips and she withdrew as quickly as possible. Sheelagh had done this for her once, she suddenly remembered, and, judging from the way her friend blinked and momentarily returned to the real world, she recalled it too. Closing the door, Sam took a long breath and then rounded the car, slotting into her own seat and glancing once at Sheelagh before she set off.

The journey was silent. Now she'd developed and implemented a plan, Sam was left with the hardening reality that Sheelagh was going to be spending the night in her house. What had seemed like a natural way to soothe Sheelagh's pain had unwittingly left her open to discovery. However inappropriate it was, the prospect of taking Sheelagh home with her sent a thrill scuttling through her body. Then she had to forcibly remind herself what had happened today and what Sheelagh was enduring. By the time they'd reached the house she was feeling marginally more capable of dealing with this bizarre situation.

She had to help Sheelagh from the car, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her into the house, balancing the overnight bag on her other arm. Only when she'd deposited her and the bag on the sofa did she start to feel awkward again and then she stood in the middle of her own living room with her coat on unsure what to do next.

Finally, Sheelagh lifted her head. 'What about Abi?'

'She's staying with her aunt, don't worry about that.' Sam shrugged her coat off and folded it over her arm. 'I'll need to change her bed for you. What have you eaten today?'

'I couldn't,' Sheelagh said with a grimace.

'Wrong answer,' Sam replied. 'I'll make you a sandwich or something. Make yourself at home,' she added as she moved back to the hallway and hung up her coat.

Her next port of call was the kitchen and she rustled up a plain ham sandwich and a cup of tea, heartily wishing she could offer Sheelagh something stronger. When she took it through she was rewarded with a small smile, as though Sheelagh still thought she was trapped in some weird dream, then she left her to it. No one liked to be watched while they ate and, truth be told, Sam needed the space. She took her time changing the covers on Abi's bed, needlessly tidying up a few things in the room while she was at it. She was disturbed by her mobile ringing in the hall downstairs and rushed down to retrieve it from her coat pocket. Sheelagh was immediately in the doorway of the living room, gnawing on her lip.

Sam glanced at the display then answered it without hesitation: 'Hello?'

'When the DCI asks where you were,' Gina said without preamble, 'you were with a snout from your DS days, all right?'

'I hadn't even thought about the fact I'd done a disappearing act,' she admitted, too aware of Sheelagh's presence. 'Thanks, Gina.'

'I take it you found her,' she said.

Nodding, Sam replied, 'She's staying with me tonight. Any news?' she asked, seeing the question in Sheelagh's eyes.

'No body,' Gina said shortly. 'Precious little else though. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yeah,' Sam murmured before hanging up. To Sheelagh she said, 'I'm sorry – nothing.'

It looked like she'd been expecting it. No one could be at that crash site and not know the worst had happened, even when there was still a glimmer of hope at the back of their mind. Sam knew, though, that the last thing Sheelagh needed at this moment was a dissection of her problems. Ushering her back into the living room, Sam nodded pointedly to the uneaten sandwich.

'I don't see you eating anything,' Sheelagh murmured.

'Well, I will if you will,' she countered.

'If that's my best offer I don't have a choice,' said Sheelagh, sitting down and making a concerted effort to force herself to eat.

Sam lingered for a moment then went to the kitchen to keep up her end of the bargain. When she returned with her own sandwich she hesitantly perched on the edge of the armchair and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes landed on the clock, discovering it was past nine, though it felt much later.

Putting her plate aside, Sheelagh asked, 'How did Patrick seem?'

Grimacing, Sam said, 'He's a good man, he understood it was the right thing to do for tonight.'

'That wasn't what I asked,' Sheelagh pointed out softly.

'He's hurt,' Sam answered eventually. 'Of course he's hurt. I told him the bare minimum about what had happened and he agreed to stay with the kids. That was the extent of the conversation.'

After absorbing that, Sheelagh said, 'You left work and came looking for me.'

Sam shrugged. 'Yeah.'

There was a fraction of a second where she thought Sheelagh might interrogate her motives but she didn't. Fresh tears appeared in her eyes and she just nodded. 'Thank you.' Then she took a long breath and reached for the overnight bag, toying with the zip. 'I think I need to sleep, if you don't mind.'

'Of course not,' Sam said, secretly relieved. 'It's the top of the stairs, turn left. If you need anything –'

'You've done enough,' Sheelagh cut in as she stood. She hesitated in the doorway. 'I don't know what happens next,' she murmured.

Sam also rose, floating across the room propelled by something other than her common sense. 'Now's not the time to be thinking about that, trust me,' she said. 'We'll deal with it in the morning.'

'We?' repeated Sheelagh with a strange smile.

It had tripped off her tongue without her realising but she did her best to swat it away. 'I've gotta look after you,' she retorted. 'You know all my dark secrets, remember.'

Leaning forward, Sheelagh wrapped an arm around her and buried her face into her shoulder. Sam closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, enjoyed the contact for what it was, yet still managed to change her expression into something akin to concerned friendship when Sheelagh withdrew.

'Night,' Sheelagh murmured as she trudged up the staircase with her bag.

'Goodnight,' Sam said, watching her go.

Alone, she made a concerted effort to go about her usual routines, aware the entire time of the floorboard creaks and clatters. Sheelagh going into the bathroom, Sheelagh brushing her teeth, Sheelagh closing the bedroom door then opening it again. Every noise in the house seemed magnified, though when the noises finally ceased the torture of that was almost worse. Sam resorted to the bottle of wine she had in the fridge, gulping down a glass quickly to fluff her brain up a little, at least so she might doze off quickly enough when she went to bed.

Perhaps the wine was to blame for what she did when she crept upstairs an hour later. Abigail's door was ajar – for whatever reason Sheelagh had decided she wanted a little light filtering in from the landing. Sam couldn't resist inching towards the gap, hearing the regular breathing of a woman deep in sleep from the darkness beyond. Her eyes adjusted to the extent that she could see Sheelagh curled up, one arm outside the covers protecting her stomach and the other tucked underneath her chin.

A couple of days ago Sam wouldn't have thought anything of this. But now... She rested her head against the doorframe and pressed her lips together. Now things had changed. She couldn't help but wonder where the hell they went from here.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a moment when Sheelagh awoke where she was completely disorientated. The ceiling was unfamiliar, the furniture stuck out in peculiar ways and the window was in the wrong bedroom she shared with Patrick was decorously beige; this one was purple and red, from what she could see from the combination of the dim light trickling through the doorway and the curtains. Then it came back to her in a flash – this was Abigail Nixon's room. She was in Sam's house because... She exhaled and lowered her head back onto the pillow.

Des was missing, presumed dead, after losing control of the area car and crashing it into a warehouse. While that had been going on, she'd been with Patrick telling him she'd been having an affair and the baby wasn't his. The timing was ridiculous, she realised, but real nonetheless. That wasn't even the whole of it, was it? She couldn't be sure what had prompted Des to lose control of the car yesterday but she knew what had precipitated it – he'd admitted to her that he'd thrown the firebomb into the station that had killed six of his colleagues. He was a murderer – an accidental killer, perhaps, but still a killer.

It had been an awful few days. The Jameson cot death had started it all. That case had affected her far more than she thought it would, far more than she'd been able to handle. One of her most vivid memories of this horrible week was Sam tracking her down in the hospital toilets. She'd gone to tidy herself up at the furthest point she could think of. She'd been scared of being pushed to open up and the fact that Sam found her had been a divine sign that... Well, telling her the truth about the pregnancy and who the father was had been like a huge weight lifting. It opened the floodgates of her tears and Sam didn't turn away from her, she stood there in the draughty hospital and held her while she cried. She couldn't fathom at the time why she'd been so reluctant to confide in her before. Yes, it had taken the usually-unflappable DI a few minutes to adjust to the news but then she was there, right there holding her together. Even her understandable irritation about June knowing before she did, even her unease about keeping the pregnancy quiet from Gina for a little longer, that was all superseded by her concern. Once again, Samantha had surprised her. Not with how much she cared but with the way she dealt with it. She knew from experience that when DI Nixon cared about something she shut down – it was her way of dealing with emotions that she found difficult. But her support hadn't faltered in the last few days, even when Sheelagh could see conflict raging in her eyes. Leaving her on the Jameson case had been hard and, really, she shouldn't have done it. But she had.

She knew that Sam hadn't agreed with her decision to make a go of things with Des. It was the fear of being a single parent and the knowledge that she couldn't lie to Patrick for the rest of her life that propelled her. Des also deserved a chance to know his child, the chance that poor Mr Jameson had been denied. All that had contributed to her decision to ignore her doubts and jump. When she'd told Sam what she was planning she'd seen the anxiety in her eyes but she hadn't argued or even demanded reasons. Sheelagh couldn't thank her enough for that.

Which was why, really, she hadn't been able to burden her anymore with the knowledge of what Des had done. She couldn't ask Sam to keep Des's secret, not as a police officer nor the woman she was. It was bad enough that Sheelagh saw what he'd described every time she closed her eyes. She'd made the decision to press ahead and tell Patrick about the affair because she hadn't seen another option. She had to gamble on Des because she couldn't prolong the lie with Patrick. What a reckless gamble that had turned out to be. If Des was dead then she'd lost all her chances in the blink of an eye.

There was a knock on the open door. 'Sheelagh? Are you awake?'

Slowly, she sat up, seeing Sam framed in the light from the landing. 'Yeah.'

Sam flicked the light on and hesitantly came into the room, perching on the bottom of the bed. She was still in her pyjamas but holding a cup that she passed over. 'Here.'

'Thanks,' Sheelagh murmured, taking the cup and feeling the warmth on her palms. 'What time is it?'

'Just after seven,' Sam answered. 'How did you sleep?'

'Well, I think. I don't know,' she admitted. 'I feel like I'm trapped in a nightmare.'

Sam pressed her hands together. 'I wish I could tell you that's what it was. What do you wanna do today? Do you want me to talk to Gina and get you signed off or –'

'I've got to go in today,' Sheelagh interrupted.

Sighing, Sam said, 'I know it's what I'd do but that doesn't mean it's the right course of action.'

Sheelagh chuckled and sipped her tea, enjoying the brief burning sensation over her lips. 'That as may be, I've still got to be there. I need to know what's going on and, anyway, it's better I'm busy. Well,' she added, resting a hand on her stomach, 'as busy as anybody's going to let me be like this.'

'Okay,' Sam replied, though she didn't look happy about it. 'Do you want a shower? There's a clean towel on the rail.'

She nodded. 'Thanks.'

'Do you feel okay – physically?' Sam questioned after a moment. 'Don't lie to me if you're not. I need to know.'

'I wouldn't,' she said softly. 'I don't feel like I did before. It was like... I don't know how to describe it. Drowning,' she went on, meeting Sam's eye. 'It was like drowning.'

'When do you mean – before?' Sam asked. 'Before when? Do you mean when you were admitted to hospital or –'

'No,' Sheelagh interrupted, suddenly realising what she did mean. 'Before I told you about the baby,' she said. 'And before you found me yesterday.'

Something flickered across Sam's face, embarrassment maybe. She cleared her throat and stood. 'I'll be downstairs if you need me.'

When she reached the door Sheelagh murmured, 'Sam?'

She turned back quickly. 'Yeah?'

'You know there's something I'm not telling you, don't you?' She waited for her hesitant nod before continuing, 'If it would make a difference now, I'd tell you. I would.'

Sam toyed with the hem of her pyjama top. 'Would it help you to tell me? Cos that's the most important thing.'

'No, it isn't,' she said with a small smile. 'I want to see you as permanent DI, you know. It might be the one good thing that happens this year.'

There was a pause while Sam absorbed that. She obviously knew partly what Sheelagh was saying, though she likely suspected it was just the perjury that Sally Johnson had been talking about, that Des had admitted to it. That was bad enough and Sam knew as well as she did that she was duty bound to pass something like that on to the DCI or the Super. It was why Sheelagh had held back the other day, even when Sam had promised to keep their conversation private. She couldn't ask her to put her own job in jeopardy by asking her to lie for Des. Now, with Des most likely dead, his guilt could die with him. No one needed to know what he'd done, not his colleagues or that little boy he was playing with in the yard just two days ago. If they could remember him as a good copper instead of a man who started a fire that killed six people then that was something. With him dead, though, Sam's professional compulsion to reveal the truth wouldn't have any consequences and she'd probably feel it was the right thing to do. That meant, Sheelagh reasoned, that telling Sam now could do no possible good beyond easing her own burden slightly. It wasn't worth it.

'I'll see what I've got for breakfast,' Sam said abruptly. 'You're not leaving this house until you've eaten something. Even if I have to go out and buy it first.'

Sheelagh chuckled as she watched her go then settled back against the headboard with her cup of tea. She welcomed the sounds of Sam banging around her own kitchen as a return to normality, as bizarre as that seemed considering the fact that this wasn't her home and that the complexity dial on her life had just been ratcheted up a notch. But, somehow, she felt comfortable here and part of her wished she could stay hiding in Abi's bedroom forever. It wasn't to be though. Part of being a grown-up was facing your problems and, for a start, that meant slipping out of this warm bed and getting a shower.

Returning to Abi's room fifteen minutes later she sat on the bed and fumbled in the bag Patrick had packed for her. His attentiveness, even under the circumstances, made her chest ache: a clean change of clothes along with her wash-bag and, of course, her favourite pyjamas. The mess she'd made of things still managed to surprise her but she forced herself to get dressed and went downstairs to locate Sam in the kitchen.

She was brooding over a coffee but stood on seeing her and gestured to an array of items on the table. 'Right,' she said, 'I don't eat breakfast but apparently Abi does. So I can offer you toast, with or without jam or honey. Actually,' she continued, lifting it up and checking the sell-by date, 'I don't want to poison you. Scrap the honey. There's cereal – Rice Krispies because Abi's all grown-up now obviously – and eggs. Or,' she said, picking up a little box with a smile, 'Pop Tarts.'

Sheelagh's lips twitched. 'Are those Abi's or yours?' she asked.

'I told you,' Sam replied, 'I don't eat breakfast. Pop Tarts it is. Sit down.'

Watching her go through the motions of making breakfast, Sheelagh felt secure, a feeling only tempered by the fact that she was going to have to step outside this little cocoon quite shortly. When Sam slid a plate in front of her Sheelagh looked up, offered her an unspoken thanks, and set to work on the sugary snack with more relish than she thought she possessed at the moment.

After a moment, Sam cleared her throat. 'I'm off to shower and get ready,' she said, squeezing her shoulder as she passed.

By the time she returned Sheelagh had washed up and gathered herself together enough to at least fake composure when she got to the station. For now, though, she could afford to show her anxiety to Sam, even if they didn't say anything about it.

The journey to work was practically silent. Sheelagh took the opportunity to focus her mind. It was likely that she'd hear confirmation today that Des was dead. She was going to have to take that in her stride, treat it like any death of a colleague. Apart from Sam, Reg, June and, apparently, Gina, no one needed to know that he was the father of her baby as far as she was concerned. She couldn't hide the break-up of her marriage but she could try and airbrush Des out of history. So, after hearing confirmation of his death in that fire, she had to go home and talk to her children, explain what she'd done and that Patrick was moving out.

'Sheelagh?' Sam said quietly. 'You've gone a funny colour.'

Blinking, she glanced sideways. They were in the station car park now and Sam was resting back in her seat, her forehead furrowed. 'I'm just thinking,' she said.

'One step at a time, okay?' Sam replied. 'Don't think about the bigger picture. And you know where I am if you need anything.'

'You need to do some work,' Sheelagh returned, unbuckling her seatbelt. 'Come on, let's get this over with.'

To an untrained observer, they probably looked like two colleagues happening to walk into the station together. Sam's work persona was on display, her shoulders were high and that sense of entitlement that Sheelagh had heard grumbles about over her the months was practically seeping from her. However, it was all an act, one worthy of an Oscar maybe, but an act nonetheless. Sam enjoyed her role, of course she did. She revelled in the knowledge that she was in charge up in CID and she enjoyed having power over the likes of Phil Hunter but that wasn't all there was to her. The real Samantha Nixon was the one who'd slipped out of Sun Hill yesterday without a second thought and come to her rescue.

'You know where I am,' Sam repeated in a low voice as they passed through the doors. 'And I'll give you a lift home later, no arguments.'

'Thank you,' she murmured in return.

Punching in the door code, Sam gave her one last, meaningful look then climbed the stairs up to CID. Sheelagh immediately felt wobbly but dug her elbows into her sides and walked into the heart of the station. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and getting to the locker room without any incidents. There were a couple of constables in there and the topic of conversation was, naturally, the area car crash. She tried to close her ears and changed as quickly as possible. Then she escaped to her office, pushing the door shut and collapsing gratefully at her desk. Whatever role she was going to be assigned today was going to take a monumental effort to complete and she needed the respite of a few moments alone.

The door opened and June bustled in. 'Oh, there you are,' she said. 'I've been so worried. How are you holding up?'

'Okay, I think,' Sheelagh answered with an attempt at a smile. It wouldn't have fooled Sam for a second but maybe June was a different matter.

Sitting down at her own desk, June said, 'Listen, I might've overstepped the mark yesterday. The DI turned up at court and –'

'It's fine,' June,' she cut in. 'You did the right thing.'

'Are you sure?' June persisted. 'I know that –'

She was interrupted by the door opening and Gina's head popped through the door: 'Sheelagh – the Super wants to see you, soon as.'

Every muscle in her body tensed. The look on Gina's face was unfathomable but all three of them knew it had to be about Des. After all, the Super knew about her affair with Des, or at least he knew something had occurred. Given his friendship with Gina, he might even know everything that she suspected herself.

Feeling leaden, she dragged herself up from her desk and walked upstairs. She felt like carrying on past the Super's office, going straight into CID and hiding in Sam's office. That wouldn't help though; it'd just prolong the suspense. Perhaps it was better to know the worst. She forced herself to knock and heard the Super call for her to come in. The fact that he hurried over to the door to greet her was hardly a good sign.

'Sergeant Murphy,' he said, 'have a seat.'

'Thank you, Sir.' She complied then hesitated, dreading the question. 'Is this about the area car crash?'

'Yes,' he replied, 'but I thought I could rely on you to spread the word that Reg is expected to make a full recovery.'

'And Des?' she asked.

'Forensics are still combing the scene but, as yet, they haven't found a body.' Her pain must've shown in her face because he sat down on the edge of his desk, a sombre expression on his face. 'There's no easy way to say this,' he continued, 'but it looks like Des was caught in the heart of the fire. Which explains why forensics haven't found anything yet. I thought you should know what was happening.'

Against all odds, she managed to keep her voice level as she answered, 'Thanks, Sir.'

As she stood, he said, 'I know you and PC Taviner were...close. If there's anything I can –'

'Thanks, Sir,' she repeated. 'I've got all the support I need.'

Stepping out into the corridor, her first instinct was to turn left and follow through on her earlier plan to go to Sam. Then she remembered that Sam had put her professional responsibilities second to her far too often lately. It wasn't fair to keep asking her to do that. Besides, if she let the cracks show now then she probably wouldn't get through the rest of the day, never mind the conversation she had to have with the kids later.

So she returned to her office, after poking her head around Gina's door and asking for instructions for the day.

'Paperwork,' she said shortly, crossing her arms. 'And if you want to be really useful you can start on mine.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Sheelagh replied, 'I'll let you know if I get that desperate.'

She appreciated the curt nod; she appreciated every smidgen of normality she encountered at the moment. Going into her office, she drew the blinds and tried to blot out the rest of the world. The only occasional interruptions came from June but when she tried to draw her into conversation she dexterously avoided it. June accepted that out of compassion and Sheelagh was grateful to be left alone, bathroom excursions excepted.

The mountain of paperwork on her desk was rapidly diminishing long after midday when there was a knock on the door and it tentatively opened. Her shoulders stiffened until a familiar blonde head appeared in the gap.

'Can I come in?' Sam asked.

Sheelagh exhaled and nodded. 'Of course.'

Sliding around the door frame, Sam closed the door then plopped a can of Tango and a sandwich on the desk. 'I'm guessing you haven't eaten.'

'I haven't,' she admitted. 'Have there been any developments?'

'Not at the warehouse, no,' Sam answered, sitting down opposite her. 'Have you heard about Gary's dad?'

'June mentioned it,' she said. 'She said they'd found a bloodied jacket but he was still missing. Have they found him yet?'

Sam shook her head. 'Now Smithy's gone and offered himself as a hostage to the gunman.'

'What?' Sheelagh stared at her. 'What was he thinking?'

'Heroics, maybe,' Sam said with a shrug. 'I don't know. But I do know Gina's doing her nut down there.'

'I bet,' Sheelagh murmured as she reached for the Tango and cracked it open, studying Sam out of the corner of her eye.

Inside the station, in work mode, she seemed much more at ease than, perversely, she'd seemed in her own home. It was strange, now Sheelagh thought about it. Sam had been open and caring but she didn't seem comfortable. That was a conundrum that she'd have to fathom out at some point. For now, though, she was grateful for Sam's strength – it made hers easier to find.

'I brought you that to eat, not look at,' Sam said, gesturing to the sandwich.

On cue, her stomach started rumbling and she swapped the drink for the sandwich. 'What have you been doing this morning?' she asked.

'Liaising with the CPS,' Sam said, rolling her eyes.

'Swap you for all this paperwork,' Sheelagh offered. 'I'm going mad.'

'At least the files don't answer back,' Sam retorted.

'It depends how long I stare at them for,' quipped Sheelagh.

Grinning, Sam pointed to the sandwich. 'Eat. Now.'

For a few minutes Sheelagh chewed while Sam flicked through one of the files on the desk and pretended not to be making sure she didn't surreptitiously drop the whole thing in the bin. She couldn't do that. Now she'd been offered food she realised quite how hungry she was. Burying herself in work was all well and good but she had to look after the baby as much as herself now. It was going to be a rough few months and they'd both need all the help they could get. When she crumpled the wrapper into the bin, Sam dropped the file back onto the desk and pulled out a bar of Galaxy from her pocket.

'See what you get when you behave?' she queried, sliding it over then standing and stretching out. 'I should get back upstairs. Come find me when your shift finishes, okay?'

'I will,' she promised.

As soon as the door closed she felt lonely then she turned the chocolate bar over in her hands and smiled. The first time she'd done something bizarre and left one of these on Sam's desk after the Joanna Sharp investigation had been one of her better impulsive decisions since she'd arrived at Sun Hill. Right now she couldn't think where she'd be if she hadn't done it.

The rest of the day wore on slowly. She heard from Gina that Smithy's hostage situation had been resolved successfully and that Sam was chomping at the bit to interview the fella before MIT got hold of him. Gary's dad was still missing, though it was being treated as a murder inquiry thanks to the amount of blood found on Alan Best's jacket. Then June dropped by, a sombre look on her face, and informed her that Des's radio had been recovered from the crash site and that they thought it might be all that they found. The horror of that statement rippled through her now much as it had earlier when Mr Okaro had said the same thing but she tried not to show that to June. Perhaps sensing that she didn't want to open up, June left her to it, responding to a domestic shout instead of pressuring her. Sheelagh knew instinctively that she wouldn't be able to talk to anyone about this but Sam, though she had a few hours of her shift to get through first.

The pandemonium that suddenly broke out in the corridor beyond her blinds was something she'd only experienced once since she arrived at Sun Hill, and that was when Matt Boyden had been shot. Instantly, she was alert, wondering if it was something to do with Des, but then the door burst open and Gina stuck her head inside, ashen-faced.

'We might need your expertise,' she said. 'DC Becker's been taken hostage in the yard, the fella's got a knife. It's not clear if he's used it but if he has –'

Sheelagh stood. 'I'm coming.'

'You stay inside the station, you hear?' Gina said before she withdrew. 'Those aren't my orders either.'

The activity died down before she made it to the door as everyone gravitated towards the yard. The only person left in this part of the nick was Sam, hovering in the doorway to Gina's office.

'Your orders then,' Sheelagh said, turning towards custody.

'Someone's got to keep an eye on you,' Sam answered then she glanced over her shoulder. 'I'll be back in a minute. Do not go out into the yard until you get the go-ahead,' she added.

Though she didn't quite know where Sam was going, Sheelagh nevertheless carried on towards custody, feeling the silence of the station acutely. Then Sam caught up with her by the custody desk, carrying her standard issue jacket which she'd returned to the Sergeants' Office to retrieve.

'Here,' she said, holding it out. 'It's chilly out there.'

Sheelagh couldn't help but smile, despite the potentially dire situation unfolding outside. The material slotted snugly around her, it probably wouldn't zip up anymore thanks to the baby but that wasn't the point. It was just another instance of Sam looking after her, even while there was a man out there threatening one of her own team with a knife.

They hovered around in custody for what felt like an age. It can't have been that long before the door banged open and a struggling man was brought in. He lunged sideways, trying to get away from the officers restraining him but it brought him too close to Sheelagh. Sam jumped in between them, arms outstretched, yelling a warning that Sheelagh couldn't hear in full but got the gist of.

'Juliet's been stabbed,' Smithy said, his voice shaking as he ran in. 'Inspector Gold wants you outside, Sheelagh.'

She squeezed Sam's arm as she passed then stepped out into one of those scenes that serving police officers dreaded – there was one of their own lying on the cold stone, a knife sticking into her abdomen.

Steeling herself, Sheelagh pulled on her gloves as she walked down the ramp, skimming her eyes over the little group surrounding Juliet consisting of Superintendent Okaro and Inspector Gold along with Cathy and Tony. All her nursing training had kicked back in. It was something you never lost, she knew that, but responding to a situation like this outside of a hospital environment was unsettling. The sooner the ambulance arrived, the better. She just had to keep Juliet breathing until it did.

Kneeling down, she looked solely on her patient, trying to drill her calmness into Juliet's panicked eyes. 'Okay, let's have a look at you,' she said. 'Can I have something to put under her head please? Cathy, we need the first aid box from the FME's office.'

'Get it out,' Juliet pleaded as Cathy rushed off.

'No, no, don't touch the knife,' Sheelagh said, seeing her hands groping for it.

'I want it out,' Juliet said.

'I know,' she replied, 'but, trust me, we need to leave it where it is.'

'Take it out,' repeated Juliet, almost in a whisper.

Sheelagh focused on trying to get her comfortable, aware of how unlikely that was given the circumstances. Along with the coat to go under her head, someone passed her another one to raise her legs up. In the meantime Juliet was trying desperately to explain what had happened and Cathy was returning with the first aid box.

'Okay,' Sheelagh said to Juliet. 'I want you to raise your legs, slowly, just a fraction. There.' Opening the first aid box, she rifled inside. 'Okay, you're okay. Now, I'm just going to pack the wound, Juliet, just to keep the pressure on, okay? You see? There you go. Gina, can you keep the pressure on for me?'

With a steady hand, Gina took over stemming the blood flow. Her composure was in stark contrast to the mumblings coming from Cathy. Finally, the Super lost patience and snapped at her to calm down then gestured Sheelagh to her feet, suggesting they run Juliet to the hospital in one of the cars.

'It's best we don't move her,' Sheelagh answered.

'Okay,' he said, 'but if the ambulance isn't here soon...'

She could understand his desire to do something; she knew it was reflected in her own eyes. Kneeling back down, she soothed Juliet as best she could. A few minutes later, when she complained of thirst, she allowed Tony to give her just a few sips of water. She was lucky to have Tony and Gina out here – clear heads.

Tapping her arm, Mr Okaro pulled her aside. 'The ambulance has been nearly ten minutes now. Sheelagh?'

'There's a major RTA at the High Street,' Tony supplied as he joined them. 'It's completely blocked.'

'It's best we don't move her,' she repeated.

'Okay.' Setting his jaw, he returned to Juliet and dropped down beside her, injecting joviality into his tone. 'I'm sorry about this,' he said. 'One way or another we'll have you fixed up soon, okay?'

'Thanks, Sir,' Juliet murmured.

He held her gaze then moved and Sheelagh took his place beside her. Gina still had her hand pressed the wound and Cathy was still there, doing nothing.

'I'm having a party this weekend,' Juliet said suddenly. 'Doesn't look like I'm going to make it, does it?'

'There'll be plenty of others,' Sheelagh assured her.

'At least I won't have to dress up,' Juliet added.

'You're all right, darling,' Sheelagh said firmly. All she could do at the moment was keep her believing that until the ambulance arrived. Moving around to the other side, she lifted Juliet's arm to keep an eye on her pulse.

'How's Gary?' Juliet questioned.

'Gary?' Sheelagh repeated.

'Have they found his dad yet?' she pressed.

Sheelagh exchanged a look with Gina, seeing the same anxiety etched on her face, before she answered, 'Not yet.'

'Poor Gary,' murmured Juliet.

Gazing at her sympathetically, Sheelagh replied, 'Yeah.'

Abruptly, Cathy, who'd been thankfully silent for a while, burst out, 'We had no reason to think he had a knife, did we? I mean, when you searched him you didn't find anything, yeah?'

Incredulously, Sheelagh lowered Juliet's arm back to the ground while Gina told Cathy, 'Do yourself a favour and go away.'

Just as she followed the order, sirens echoed in the distance. Rarely had Sheelagh been so relieved to hear an ambulance approaching. It was one thing being responsible for keeping a member of the public alive, quite another to keep a colleague breathing until help arrived. She was looking forward to relinquishing control of this situation but, for now, she moved around to relieve Gina putting pressure on the wound so the inspector could make sure the path was clear for the ambulance.

'Sheelagh? Juliet said suddenly. 'Would you ring my mum for me?'

Her head had lifted from the coat and she was gazing earnestly at her, showing more fear now they were alone than she had in front of Gina or the Super. Slipping an arm under her head, Sheelagh cradled her like she would a child. 'Sure,' she said, 'of course we'll get her.'

Juliet met her eye and blinked back tears. Then the paramedics arrived and Sheelagh allowed them to take over, standing back against the wall and looking at her shaking hands. It only took a few minutes for them to ease her onto the stretcher and wheel her towards the ambulance. Sheelagh followed them across then hesitated as she heard something beyond the cars. She couldn't put her finger on what it was but it unsettled her.

Then Juliet yelled, her voice trembling, 'Sheelagh!'

'I'm here,' she said instantly, 'I'm here.'

'Will you come with me?'

'I'm coming with you,' she answered, climbing into the ambulance alongside her.

'I'll meet you there, Sheelagh,' Gina shouted as the paramedic pulled the door shut.

'Okay,' Sheelagh called then she focused her attention on Juliet again. 'You're okay,' she said firmly.

The ambulance felt like a bubble for them both. Now it was just them and a paramedic Juliet let herself go a little, showing how scared she was. Sheelagh kept her occupied by asking her questions, talking about this party she was meant to be having and getting a few laughs out of her. Knowing they were heading to a well-equipped hospital did the world of good for them both. Sheelagh held Juliet's hand and reassured her over and over that things were going to be all right, trying to convince herself as much as anything.

When they arrived at the hospital Juliet kept calling her name until the paramedics forced them apart in A&E. Sheelagh retreated to the other side of the glass to watch the doctors work. She'd been here so many times with members of the public but she'd rarely felt so helpless. From the looks on the doctors' faces she was left under no illusions how dire they thought this situation was.

A few minutes later Gina rushed in. 'I've rung her mum in Germany.'

Glancing to her, Sheelagh asked, 'Is she coming over?'

'Yeah, she's flying out tomorrow,' Gina answered.

Sheelagh hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed on Juliet's struggling body while another horror circulated her mind. Finally, she questioned, 'Did you hear about Des's radio?'

'Yep,' Gina said shortly.

Turning to her, Sheelagh murmured, 'They think it's all they might find. It's a terrible way to –'

Gina pointed a warning finger at her. 'Oi.'

'He was a good officer,' Sheelagh said, crossing her arms tightly over her bump.

'Well, let's hope we don't lose another one, eh?' Gina muttered.

Alarms started beeping, drawing Sheelagh's attention back to Juliet beyond the glass. The doctors called for the crash cart and, for whatever reason, June Ackland and Jim Carver followed it in, joining her and Gina at the glass. Sheelagh could feel every muscle in her body tense further with every second that passed then suddenly three minutes had gone by without a pulse and the doctors looked at each other with that familiar look of resignation. As they noted the time of death, Sheelagh couldn't feel anything. She was numb. Then she was struck with the urge to get away, escape, and rushed out of the room, not stopping until she was outside in the cool night air, hugging her arms to her chest and trying desperately to force a prayer onto her lips.

June came up beside her. 'Sheelagh?'

She exhaled, feeling herself breaking. 'First Des and now...'

'Yeah,' June murmured.

'I thought she was fine,' Sheelagh said, blinking away her tears. 'I mean, we were even laughing and joking in the ambulance.' She paused and tried to steady her voice. 'So young. So quick.'

'I know,' replied June.

Sheelagh squeezed her eyes shut briefly. 'What a waste. It's not fair.'

June sighed. 'No.'

'If anyone it should've been me,' Sheelagh rushed on then, before she could stop herself, added, 'I wish it had've been.'

'Sheelagh, you don't mean that,' June said.

'Don't I?' she retorted.

'Come on, you've still got the...' June trailed off and gestured to her stomach.

Sheelagh looked down, aware of the bitterness leaking into her voice as she muttered, 'Yeah. So I have.' Gently, June put a hand on her shoulder but she shook it off, feeling rage burn in her stomach. 'No!' she snapped. 'Juliet's just died, my husband's left me and I'm carrying a dead man's baby! I don't think tea and sympathy quite covers that, do you?'

Pushing past June, aware of the shocked expression on her face, she stormed back into the hospital. Her anger had abated by the time she reached the waiting room then Gina stepped out in front of her.

'Let's get back to the nick, eh?' Gina said.

The PC who'd driven Gina to the hospital was waiting outside and Sheelagh slotted into the back alongside her. However long the journey was, it felt like mere seconds. Perhaps she'd nodded off or her mind was too occupied with the two dead faces of Des and Juliet circling around it.

Getting out of the car in the yard, the first thing that caught her eye was Juliet's motorbike. It struck her dumb for a few moments until Gina came round to join her. She saw what she was looking at, took a step towards it then turned back towards the station.

'Yeah, get Juliet's bike shifted,' she said. 'I need a drink.'

Sheelagh's eyes lingered on the bike then she was about to follow Gina into the station when something stopped her in her tracks. It was like the noise she'd heard earlier, a whisper, something out of another life. Or, she realised with a shiver, another world.

'Come on, Sheelagh!' Gina called, breaking the spell.

She physically shook herself and began following Gina up the ramp and through into custody. What happened next was a bit of a blur – someone bolted out of the doors pursued by what felt like half of the station. A moment after all that Sam was suddenly in her line of sight, grasping her arm.

'Are you all right?' she asked urgently.

Sheelagh glanced towards the shouts echoing around the yard. 'What's going on?'

'We found Alan Best dead in an alley and that was Gary trying to enact his revenge,' explained Sam, leading her into the deserted custody area. The only two people in there were Mr Okaro and Gina, deep in conversation.

'Go on,' the Super said as they entered, glancing between the three of them, 'you've all done quite enough for tonight. Thank you.'

Sheelagh wasn't about to argue and neither, it seemed, were Sam or Gina. With one hand still firmly on her arm, Sam shepherded her to Gina's office where the inspector instantly lifted a bottle out of her drawer. Then her eyes fell on Sheelagh's stomach.

Sam, still holding her arm, cleared her throat. 'I'll get you something a little more appropriate. Have you eaten anything since that sandwich?'

'No,' she admitted, 'but I should get home. I need to –'

'I've spoken to Patrick,' Sam interrupted. 'I told him that you were at the hospital with Juliet and he said to take as long as you need. He'll stay until you get back so you've got a bit of breathing space, okay? Now, sit down and I'll find you something to eat.'

Sheelagh just nodded, overwhelmed. Sam patted her on the shoulder as she left the office then, finally, Sheelagh became aware of Gina looking at her. She shifted under the scrutiny, wondering if she was about to be interrogated about the baby and Des and all manner of other things that might distract the forthright inspector from what had happened to this station in the last few days – Des and Juliet dead and Polly Page on trial for murder, it was hardly a brilliant week.

Instead, Gina sank into her chair and said, 'As far as coppers go, Samantha's one of the best.'

Frowning, Sheelagh belatedly followed Sam's advice and sat down. 'I know that,' she said.

Gina poured herself a measure of whisky before she added, 'You should've heard some of the things said about her when she first arrived. Here one day and acted up to DI.'

'I can imagine,' Sheelagh replied.

'Doesn't beat around the bush,' Gina went on. 'Gets the job done, doesn't suffer fools, especially not the little boys upstairs.'

'I know all this,' said Sheelagh, a little confused. After the week she'd had this conversation felt surreal.

Gina sipped her whisky and reclined in her seat. 'Brilliant copper, heart of ice though.'

'Oh,' she murmured with a tired smile.

'That held until eight or nine months ago,' Gina said. 'But the rest of the nick, they reckon it still holds.'

'I know how lucky I am,' Sheelagh assured her.

'So long as you do,' answered Gina.

Before she could fathom the way Gina was looking at her, Sam returned with a bottle of water and another sandwich. Sheelagh took the water as Gina poured another measure of whisky and held it out to Sam.

'To Juliet,' Gina said shortly.

'To Juliet,' Sheelagh and Sam repeated, raising their drinks.

Silence descended on the office for a few minutes, Sheelagh acutely aware of her baby all of a sudden. Then some voices drifted along the corridor, urgent and angry. That piqued Gina's interest and she slipped from her seat and out through the door. Sheelagh expected Sam to follow her but she didn't. Instead, she pushed the door to and pulled up a chair beside her.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

Exhaling, she murmured, 'I went mad and yelled at June.'

Sam chuckled. 'She'll get over it. It's been a hell of a week, she knows that.'

'I thought Juliet was going to be okay,' she admitted, feeling tears brewing. 'Maybe there was more I could've done –'

'Hey,' Sam cut in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, 'you know that's not the case. You did everything you could, the paramedics did everything they could. The only person to blame for what happened to Juliet is the man who stabbed her. And, maybe,' she added, glancing towards the closed door, 'the idiot who didn't search him properly.'

'You really don't like Cathy Bradford, do you?' she questioned, resting her head on Sam's shoulder.

'It's not a question of like,' Sam answered after a moment. 'I don't trust her. I appreciate being able to trust my team. She sold Polly down the river yesterday. '

'What happened?' Sheelagh asked. 'I never really found out.'

'Oscar-winning performance, if you listen to June Ackland. Frankly, I can believe it,' Sam went on. 'She portrayed Polly as a black widow, it completely undermined your evidence. I always said Polly wasn't a murderer, even though I knew something wasn't right. In her shoes...maybe I'd have done the same.'

Sheelagh closed her eyes. 'Do you think?'

'You can't... You can't see someone you love in pain and not want to ease it,' replied Sam.

'I suppose not,' she answered, though she was drifting, the day catching up with her.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, her head pressed into the crook of Sam's neck, before a voice commented, 'You two need to get out of here.'

Sheelagh blinked and found Gina standing in front of them. Sam had jolted away, surprised by her entrance, and was finishing her whisky.

After a few seconds, Gina explained, 'Gary's been injured falling off the roof but he's okay. Ellis wasn't so lucky – he's dead.'

'Good riddance, as far as I'm concerned,' Sam said. 'Come on, Sheelagh. You get changed, I'll grab my stuff from upstairs.'

For whatever reason, Sam suddenly seemed eager to leave. To be fair, Sheelagh found herself desperate to be out of this place, even if the alterative was a conversation with the kids she really didn't want to have. Gary coming off the station roof compounded the problem of the last few days – everything in Sun Hill was falling to pieces. With one final attempt at a smile, Sheelagh grasped her sandwich and water and headed to the changing room. She heard Sam peeling off in the opposite direction towards the staircase.

Five minutes later she was just about changed and the door to the locker room tentatively opened. Sam's head bobbed through the gap and Sheelagh sat down on the bench to pull on her shoes. They didn't speak, Sam just leaning against the door frame watching her, and then they walked out to the car in silence.

Inside the car, that silence became almost unbearable. It wasn't that she felt any animosity from Sam, it was just something she couldn't put her finger on. Perhaps it was the stress of the night, coupled with what had happened to Des yesterday. As Sam manoeuvred out of the parking space, Sheelagh reached forward and turned the CD player on. Her reward was ABBA, yes, but a track it took her a few moments to place as 'I've Been Waiting For You'.

'I love this one,' she said softly.

Sam glanced over. 'Me too.'

ABBA accompanied them the rest of the way, Sheelagh focusing on the music to avoid thinking about the impending conversation she needed to have with the kids. When they reached her quiet road the cab was still parked up in the drive. It made her heart ache. Slowly, Sam stretched to turn the radio off and quiet settled around them.

'Do you want me to come in with you?' she asked.

Sheelagh looked across, touched by the offer. 'You go home to Abigail. Give her a big hug.'

'I will,' Sam promised. 'I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Here, don't forget your bag.'

Taking it, Sheelagh felt like she wanted to cry again. Instead, she just whispered, 'Thanks.'

'I'll see you tomorrow,' said Sam.

She nodded, trying to muster some optimism. With one last look at Sam's gentle green eyes, she slid out of the car and let the door slam. Then she took a deep breath and started up the path, feeling the car remain static behind her. It didn't move off until after she was in the house.

Patrick had obviously been listening out for her. He came into the hall, hovering like a child. 'How's your colleague?' he asked.

'She died,' Sheelagh admitted, hearing her voice break. 'How are the kids?'

'I...' He sighed and rubbed his neck. 'I told them what was going on. When that friend of yours called I thought it was best. I didn't know what time you were going to be home and I wanted them to know...'

'I understand,' she replied. 'How did they take it?'

'They've upset,' he answered. 'I'd leave them be if I was you. I'm sorry about your colleague,' he added, ducking into the living room and bringing out a holdall. 'I'll be in touch.'

Within a few seconds he was gone. Sheelagh stood in silence in the hallway, hearing the dull thunk of music above her, and wished she was back in Samantha Nixon's house, safe and secure.

* * *

The next day dawned in various shades of grey. Sheelagh rose early after a restless night, hoping to catch some time with the kids but they refused, barrelling straight towards the door or ignoring her completely in favour of their headphones. It was a battle she was going to have to fight at some point but she couldn't bring herself to do it today. Instead, she forced herself to eat some toast – Sam's voice ringing in her ears – and focused on getting into work. Today she was expecting a tumultuous day, Juliet's death haunting them all, but it was her job to stem as much gossip as she could.

She missed Sam's strength walking into the station today but she recognised that coming to rely so much on another person was a dangerous game. While she was hardly equating Sam's steadfast support with Des's promises, she knew that she couldn't continue to impose on Sam's professional life. Time after time over the last week her first instinct had been to seek Sam's support but that wasn't sustainable. She had to remember that she was a grown woman – now a single mother – she had to try and cope with her emotions on her own without bothering Sam all the time.

The topic of conversation was indeed Juliet's death and Gary's accident yesterday. At least that had superseded Des's crash but Sheelagh did hear her name mentioned in relation to Juliet's stabbing. She hid herself in her office away from the chatter, though she had to leave every so often to appease her overactive bladder. It was after one of those trips that June appeared, bundling her back into their shared office and nudging the door closed.

'I spoke to Mr Okaro earlier,' June said. 'He thinks Des might still be alive.'

Sheelagh's head snapped sideways. 'Why?'

'They didn't find his body at the warehouse,' explained June.

'Where is he?' Sheelagh questioned, feeling detached from her surroundings 'Are there any clues at all?'

'No, I don't think so,' June answered. 'Can you think of any reason why Des might go into hiding? Could it be because of Patrick or the baby?'

A reason Des might go into hiding... Sheelagh squeezed her eyes closed briefly and tried to shake her head. She knew it didn't work. She'd seen the state of Reg in the hospital, after all. If Des had deliberately driven into that warehouse then that meant he'd left Reg for dead. Given what she knew of him now – that he'd killed six of his colleagues – maybe she shouldn't be surprised. Was there a reason Des might go into hiding? Yes. There was. And, suddenly, Sheelagh needed to escape June's inquisitive stare.

'I'm sorry...' she murmured, grabbing for the door handle.

Escaping into the bathroom was the only respite she was likely to have. She didn't know how to cope with this news. She'd spent the last two days believing Des was dead. Accepting that had been hard enough. She'd grieved for him, she'd grieved for the father her baby wasn't going to know. To suffer like that and then to find out that he'd faked his own death... Anyone who could make her endure that, especially given her condition, was hardly proving their worth. Just two days ago she'd been willing to sacrifice her comfortable life for Des. Despite knowing what he'd done, she was willing to put her life in his hands – and this was how he'd repaid her. It wasn't love, was it? It was selfishness. He'd seen the danger to himself and he'd decided to look after number one. What kind of father was that?

'Sheelagh?'

She jumped then let out her breath, glancing sideways at Sam hovering by the door. The look on her face suggested that she was apprised of the situation – at least, as much as she could be.

'June came to see me,' Sam said after a few moments of silence. 'She told me what the Super said about Des.'

Sheelagh tried to look over and found she couldn't. Looking into Sam's eyes meant confessing the truth.

There was a long pause then Sam asked, 'Is it the perjury? Is that why Des might've wanted to go into hiding?'

Trying to hold it together, she kept her gaze on the sink. Then Sam abruptly swept across the bathroom and rested a hand on her arm. Looking up, Sheelagh caught the concern in her eyes and she faltered. If this was anyone else she would've deflected but with Sam looking at her in this moment she couldn't. Besides, yesterday morning, hadn't she promised that if it would make a difference now she'd tell her the truth? Although she was aware that once she said the words, things would change, she knew she needed to do it.

'I wish he was dead,' she murmured, covering Sam's hand with her own. 'He'd be better off. The other night... It seems so long ago now – after the memorial dedication, do you remember?'

'Yeah,' Sam replied, 'you were distraught.'

'You didn't push me to tell you why,' Sheelagh said, shifting her focus back to the sink bowl but keeping her hand pressed against Sam's. 'You've no idea how much easier that's made things. I didn't want to drag you into it, not after you've been so good to me. But if he isn't dead... The reason he wants to disappear,' she went on slowly, 'isn't because he lied about Geoff Simpson's confession. It's because he...he threw the petrol bomb into the station that night.'

Sam's fingers tightened on her arm. 'That's what he told you?'

Hearing the quiver in her voice, Sheelagh's gaze was drawn up to her face. Her eyes were wide then they flicked in the direction of her stomach.

'That why you were asking me questions about Abi and Glenn,' she continued in a murmur then she glanced around the bathroom. 'Maybe we should take this upstairs, okay?'

Sheelagh nodded and relinquished her grip on Sam's hand. It took a few seconds for Sam to pull away from her, nibbling on her lip and plainly showing how unsettled she was by this latest bombshell. Not for the first time in recent days, Sheelagh felt incredibly guilty for burdening her but, also, undeniably relieved she had.

The journey upstairs was almost halted by Honey Harman then Sam stepped in between them, explaining, 'I actually need a word with Sergeant Murphy urgently. I saw Sergeant Ackland in her office though. I'm sure she can help.'

That quietened the usually-chatty constable and she slipped off, red-faced, down the staircase. Despite the emotions raging inside of her, Sheelagh couldn't help but smile at DI Nixon's way of striking the younger members of the relief dumb. Gina had been right last night – most people around here still believed the hype, even after all the stuff with Abigail.

When they reached CID no one seemed eager to be noticed by their boss, which was apparently fine by Sam. She whisked them into the office, closing the door and twitching the blinds closed. Then she turned and urged Sheelagh into a chair before rounding the desk. Her movements were very precise, betraying how disturbed she was. For a few minutes she didn't say a word and Sheelagh stared into her lap.

'Okay,' Sam said finally and Sheelagh looked up to see her expression resolute. She immediately felt better. 'So Des wanted everyone to think he was dead,' continued Sam in much the same tone of voice she used for cases. 'What happened the night of the fire, did he tell you?'

Sheelagh inhaled deeply. 'It was counterfeit money, if you can believe it.'

Frowning, Sam asked, 'What do you mean?'

'He'd taken a counterfeit fifty from a prisoner and put it in the collection for Mr Conway,' Sheelagh explained, somehow keeping her voice calm. 'With the station under attack he saw the chance to destroy the collection and get himself out of a hole. He hadn't counted on there being some gas canisters inside and... Well, the rest you know.'

'And he decided to fit Simpson up,' Sam said, rubbing her forehead. 'Until Sally Johnson started poking around, that was fine. Does anyone else know it was Des who threw that petrol bomb?'

'No,' she said. Reg had enough problems at the moment with third-degree burns without an investigation being launched about why he'd kept his knowledge of Des's actions to himself. There were going to be enough questions asked of Sheelagh herself on that score and she was dreading it.

Sam cleared her throat and straightened out some files on her desk. 'I appreciate the lie,' she said then she hesitated.

'I know what you're thinking,' Sheelagh said quietly. 'How could I know what he'd done and still agree to leave Patrick?'

'Of all people, I've got no room to judge,' answered Sam.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'No, you were braver than me. I couldn't face being a single mother and I couldn't carry on lying to Patrick.'

'What Des did sounds like an accident to me,' Sam said. 'You think that, don't you? Whatever your fears, Sheelagh, you couldn't completely disregard everything you believe in if you thought it was anything but a stupid...mistake.'

'How do you know that?' she questioned. 'I don't know that.'

Sam gazed at her sympathetically. 'Yes, you do. Besides,' she went on, lacing her fingers together, 'you've admitted you love him. That makes you do funny things.'

'I can't love him,' Sheelagh replied forcefully. 'You said it about you and Glenn – you can't love someone you don't know, can you? I fell for someone putting on an act, pretending to be a hero when he's nothing more than a coward. What kind of man leaves his friend to die in a burning building while he fakes his own death?'

'Hey,' Sam muttered, coming around the desk and leaning against the edge just in front of her. 'You need to calm down, okay? For the baby's sake.'

Letting out her breath, Sheelagh nodded. 'Okay.'

'Good.' Reaching over, Sam squeezed her shoulder. 'What do you wanna do?'

'I can't think straight,' she admitted. 'I don't know.'

'That's understandable,' said Sam. 'You only found out he's alive half an hour ago.'

She raised her eyes to Sam's. 'But I have to do something, don't I?'

Instead of answering, she just crossed her arms. That was the professional Samantha Nixon abdicating responsibility – the closest Sheelagh was going to get to being told that this conversation would never be repeated outside of these walls if she said the word. But that put Sam in an intolerable position, didn't it?

Abruptly, there was a knock on the door and Gina entered, a harried expression on her face. 'I don't know why I didn't just check in here first,' she said, 'it'd save time. Sheelagh, I need you on CAD.'

Sheelagh stood. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

Gina glanced to Sam and checked her watch. 'I thought you had that meeting with the community leaders down on the Cockcroft.'

Wincing, Sam grabbed for her coat. 'Thanks for that.'

She spared a look for Sheelagh before she left the office, just long enough to let her know that she didn't think any less of her because of this mess. Sheelagh appreciated it more than she could say, not that she would have a chance of formulating words with Gina stood right there.

'Chop, chop!' Gina said, clapping her hands together. 'Come on, Sheelagh.'

* * *

For the rest of the day she was stuck in CAD. In a way, it was good for her. Answering calls from the public and passing instructions onto officers kept her distracted, it kept her mind away from Des. Her shift finished at four and, from a call she heard about some trouble on the Cockcroft, Sam was still down there. Part of her wanted to wait and talk to her when she got back but the sensible half of her knew she couldn't involve Sam in whatever decision she made about all this. Taking the night to herself was the better option, however lonely she felt as she left the station.

She made attempts to speak to the kids but just got silence or monosyllables in return. Given what had happened today, she still couldn't muster the fight to talk to them properly. Her mind was too much in turmoil and if she started trying to explain her affair to them then who knew where it might end? She didn't want to burden her children with any unnecessary knowledge; she'd already done that far too much with Sam.

When she got to work the next morning she wasn't very surprised to find Sam waiting for her in the car park. What did surprise her was the anxious look on her face. Locking the car, Sheelagh went over to join her.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

Sam placed a hand on her spine, ushering her away from the entrance. 'I've been thinking, spent most of the night thinking actually.'

Sheelagh grimaced. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –'

'No, forget that,' Sam interrupted. 'I don't care about that. I was thinking about Abi and Glenn. One of the things I was petrified about was him finding out somehow, Sheelagh; wanting to be part of her life. That was bad enough and he wasn't on the run. Do you understand?'

Reaching out, she gripped Sam's hand. 'Do you think he'd do that?'

'You know him better than me,' answered Sam. 'Listen, I'm not trying to pressure you into passing the information on,' she continued. 'I know what this means, more than you do. People will know, they'll look at you differently. If you're the one to grass him up, you'll feel guilty for doing it, I know, but it's beyond that now. You said yourself, he left Reg to die in that warehouse – what else is he capable of? You were right that none of it mattered while we thought he was dead. But it matters now, for you and the baby if nothing else.'

'I've got to tell the Super,' Sheelagh murmured.

Sam nodded and swivelled towards the entrance. 'Let me drop my bag off and I'll come with you.'

'No,' replied Sheelagh, tugging her back, 'I don't want to get you involved in this.'

'No arguments,' Sam said firmly. 'I'm already involved.'

'Not officially,' she argued. 'You don't need to have your name dragged into it.'

'Sheelagh,' Sam said, turning to face her and looking her straight in the eye, 'I'm not letting you go through this alone. You're stuck with me so you better get used to it. Understood?'

'Understood,' she said with a soft smile.

After squeezing her hand, Sam released it and walked to the door, holding it open for Sheelagh to pass through. They were about to turn left to go straight up to CID when Marilyn called them over to the desk.

'Ma'am,' she said to Sam, 'Mr Meadows wants to see you as soon as you arrive. I think...' After glancing around, Marilyn continued in a low voice, 'I think it's about Cathy Bradford going on breakfast television this morning.'

'What?' Sheelagh and Sam asked in unison.

Marilyn winced. 'She was talking about Polly's conviction and how betrayed it made her feel. She ended up in tears.'

'I don't believe this,' Sam growled.

'Go,' Sheelagh said, touching her arm. 'Find me when you're done.'

With a grateful nod, Sam jammed the code into the door and hurried up the stairs. Sheelagh lingered for a few minutes, getting the details of Cathy's television shenanigans from Marilyn. Once she got into the station proper that was the topic of conversation. No one seemed to make the link with Juliet's death the other night, no one seemed to have the sense to wonder why controversy was following Cathy around at the moment. To be fair, if Sheelagh hadn't had Sam's insight from when she was investigating the allegation against Polly, she might not think much about Cathy either way. One thing was for sure – most people in the station thought a lot of Polly, conviction for murder or not. Cathy's evidence had tipped the scales against her and now she'd rubbed salt into the wound. Sheelagh wouldn't like to be in her shoes; she was just relieved that she worked upstairs in CSU so she didn't have to deal with her on a daily basis.

An hour or so later there was a knock on the open door of the Sergeants' Office. Looking up, she found Sam hovering on the threshold.

'Sorry,' she said, 'I had to check in with Debbie. She's insisting she's fine but I know she was friends with Juliet. I wouldn't expect her to talk to me, to be fair. Anyway, do you want to get this over with?'

Sheelagh slid out from behind the desk, aware of the fact she was shaking. 'Yeah.'

As they walked upstairs Sheelagh felt herself giving way. Without Sam beside her, she knew she wouldn't go through with this and, yet, for the sake of her baby she had to do it. It was Sam who approached the door first; Sam who, after glancing over to check it was okay, knocked then opened the door when Mr Okaro called them in.

He rose on seeing them. 'Is everything all right?' he asked.

Sam cleared her throat. 'Sir, we've erm... We need to tell you something a little delicate.'

'Please, sit down,' he said, gesturing to the chairs.

Sheelagh felt herself wobble and saw Sam's hand reach out to steady her before she checked herself. That gave Sheelagh the strength to open her mouth though – this was her tale to tell and much more hesitation on her part would likely lead to Sam taking on the burden herself.

So, in a dispassionate voice, she recounted the bare details – Des had confessed to her that he threw the petrol bomb into Sun Hill and had subsequently seen the opportunity to frame Geoff Simpson for the crime. He'd then driven into the warehouse the other day for reasons she wasn't certain of but which were undeniably related to his belief that the net was closing in. She didn't say how long she'd known the truth and she certainly didn't mention that Sam had known overnight and had been almost willing to keep it to herself.

When she'd finished and Mr Okaro was rising to show them out of the office he touched her arm. 'Sheelagh, I appreciate how hard this was for you, given the circumstances. But thank you for telling me.'

She just nodded, relieved the ordeal was over. Sam muttered something to the Super then followed her out into the corridor. Glancing sideways, Sheelagh saw a frown on her face.

'What?' she asked.

Sam pressed her lips together. 'How is it the Super knows about you and Des?'

Sheelagh flushed, remembering all too well the moment Mr Okaro had walked into the Sergeants' Office while she was giving in to her feelings for Des. It wasn't something she'd been proud of at the time and now, in hindsight, it positively humiliating. Out of everything she'd confided to Sam in the last week, why was this so difficult?

'There was an incident,' she said finally. 'The day of my wedding anniversary.'

'Right,' Sam murmured and Sheelagh could see the cogs working in her brain. Then her face cleared quickly – too quickly – and she nodded. 'Are you gonna be all right?'

'I'll be fine,' she answered. 'I feel better now. Thank you. I'd better get some work done.'

'Yeah, me too.'

Though Sam attempted a smile, it didn't reach her eyes. After patting Sheelagh on the arm she disappeared in the direction of CID, plunging her hands into her pockets as soon as she was through the doors. Sheelagh watched her until her view was obscured then slowly returned to her office.

The rest of the day was a patchy mess of scandals. Gina called the relief together in the canteen, explaining to them that Des was on the run which, of course, nobody really understood. There were good reasons for not telling them the truth, especially given that some of them had lost valued colleagues in that fire. Even so, it was difficult to expect them to turn in another colleague when they didn't know what he'd done. It was a tricky balance but Sheelagh tried to distance herself from it. She had enough pressing problems and, besides, with the entire station now keeping an eye out for Des she at least felt a bit safer.

Cathy Bradford made a stir, wandering into the canteen and glowing about her welcoming committee. Sheelagh struggled to hide her irritation at that but didn't succumb to her urge to retreat into her office. For now she wanted to know what was being said about Des, to see if anybody had an inkling. She got herself a tea and sat down with a few of the relief, not participating much in the conversation but listening to everything. Then voices at the next table caught her attention.

'Inspector's exams?' Rob was saying.

'What, you're surprised Miss Know-it-all passed?' Phil retorted. 'Suppose this means we're stuck with her. Looks good, doesn't it? Female DI. Ticks all the PC boxes.'

'You've gotta play smarter, mate,' Rob replied. 'I know Sam, remember. Let her have enough rope, she's bound to hang herself.'

Phil snorted. 'I thought she already had, mate! All that stuff with her daughter and she still comes out smelling of roses.'

Sheelagh had heard enough. Excusing herself from her table, she went back to her office a little bemused. While things had been a little crazy in the last couple of days, it was strange that Sam hadn't mentioned something as fundamentally important as passing her exams. More than that, she hadn't even mentioned she was taking them. Maybe that second part had been due to the half-confidences floating around between them thanks to the pregnancy. And, then, perhaps Sam hadn't wanted to gloat about her good news given all that was going on. But Sheelagh wouldn't have taken it that way – surely Sam knew that? Or had she been so focused on looking after her that she'd just thought it irrelevant?

She didn't get the chance to ask her. Their paths didn't cross for the rest of the day and Sam didn't seek her out. While that felt unusual given the intensity of their friendship recently, it might just have been because she'd spent so much time neglecting her work lately that she'd needed to immerse herself for a bit. If she'd passed her exams and was looking seriously at the prospect of the permanent DI's job then she needed to focus on the job to an extent. Still, Sheelagh couldn't help but miss her presence as she left the station at the end of the shift. She was working afternoon and evenings for the next couple of days, meaning that the likelihood of bumping into Sam at work was slim though, if she needed her, she knew all she had to do was ask. It was a reassuring thought.

* * *

That evening was marked by Declan finally coming out of his shell and ralling against her. It resulted in a broken cup and hot chocolate stains down the kitchen wall. She set about cleaning up the mess without a murmur, almost grateful that the barrier had been shattered. It was a case of one down, two to go, though Declan's assertion that he wanted to live with Patrick shook her up. Maybe it was just the anger talking but the idea that none of them wanted to accept this baby was something that kept her awake into the small hours. Coupled with her fears about Des ignited yesterday by Sam, she didn't sleep very well at all. The late start didn't help much either – she spent most of the morning staring into space and listening to the silence in the house.

Once she got to work she was at least able to distract herself. Gina posted her to CAD – somewhere she suspected was going to be her second home for the next few months – and briefly explained that they'd had no news of Des and were working under the assumption that he wouldn't hang around.

'He'll suspect the cat's out of the bag,' Gina explained, halting by the door.

'You mean he'll know I gave him up,' Sheelagh muttered.

Gina stepped back into the office. 'Oi, you did the right thing and you know it. He made his bed.'

'And so did I,' replied Sheelagh, her hands slipping down to her stomach automatically.

It didn't seem Gina knew what to say to that. She threw her a sympathetic smile then tapped twice on the door frame and disappeared back across to her own office. After checking her email Sheelagh went along to CAD and prepared for a long stint sat down.

When she went on refs early evening she sat alone in the canteen, unwilling to get drawn into any of the gossip about Des that she could hear swirling around the place. Looking deep into her cooling cup of tea, she was startled when someone sat down beside her. Though her first instinct was to hurry away, she relaxed when she saw it was Sam. It might only have been thirty hours or so since she'd seen her but she didn't realise how much she'd missed her reassuring smile.

'What are you still doing here?' Sheelagh asked.

'Partly paperwork,' Sam answered, settling her elbows on the table. 'Partly the uneasy feeling I shouldn't leave the nick before Phil.'

'What's he done now?'

'I don't know,' said Sam, 'but there's something going on with him and I don't trust it. Anyway,' she went on, 'I asked Gina earlier what time you were in. I wanted to see how you were.'

'Okay, I think,' she replied. 'Declan blew up at me last night but it's better out than in, I suppose. Nothing from Des,' she added before Sam could ask.

'Nothing from upstairs either,' Sam returned. 'If there's anything at all I'll let you know.'

Sheelagh nodded, though she didn't see how Sam could stick to that promise given their difference in rank. If there was something the DCI warned her to keep to herself, how could she reject that warning? She couldn't, not when her career was on the line. Instead of drawing attention to that point, she commented, 'I hear congratulations are in order.'

It seemed to take Sam a few seconds to realise what she was talking about. 'How did you hear about that?'

'Your ears become accustomed to gossip in this place,' she answered. 'It was Phil's nattering as a matter of fact.'

'I bet it was,' Sam said with a chuckle then she hesitated. 'How are you coping with all the other gossip?'

'I'm trying to blot it out,' she admitted.

'Probably best,' Sam replied.

Sheelagh studied her carefully. 'You've been listening.'

Shrugging, Sam said, 'Let's just say I nearly smashed Rob and Gabriel's heads together this morning.'

'And it's probably best you don't do that,' Sheelagh retorted, though she couldn't help but smile.

'There we go,' Sam murmured.

Sheelagh frowned and asked, 'What?'

'I got a smile,' said Sam.

'About the only person who could,' Sheelagh returned, almost gratified to see the tinge of embarrassment grace Sam's cheeks. She liked that; a reminder of the way she could break down Samantha Nixon's barriers with a few well-placed words, a reminder of their relationship. She felt as though something had abruptly shifted between them yesterday morning, after they'd spoken to Mr Okaro, but whatever that was had been swept away and things were the same again. 'Why didn't you tell me about the exam?' Sheelagh asked softly after a moment.

'It didn't seem appropriate,' Sam replied. 'Compared to everything else that's going on, it's pretty unimportant.'

Sheelagh gazed at her fondly. 'What would people do if they knew the real you?'

The blush on Sam's face deepened as she stood. 'No one'd believe you,' she returned. 'They'd think you'd lost your marbles. They'd probably have you committed.'

'It'd be a rest,' Sheelagh remarked.

Smothering her smile, Sam questioned, 'Are you on lates again tomorrow?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'Keeps me out of mischief I suppose.'

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'What part of threatening to expose me to half the nick counts as you keeping out of mischief?'

Chuckling, she shrugged. 'Fair point. What?' she added when Sam unsuccessfully tried to hide her amusement.

'That was a laugh,' she explained before striding out of the canteen looking very pleased with herself.

* * *

One of the benefits of working late was that she could discount the kids' avoidance of her as almost normal. When she arrived at work the next afternoon Sheelagh listened into the gossips but the fresh topic of conversation was the new DC upstairs, attached to the Public Protection Unit and in charge of keeping track of paedophiles in the borough. From an angry tirade she overheard from Tony, she gathered that not everyone agreed with his approach. It was a thankless job really but Sheelagh heard from June that DC Terry Perkins was the officer who'd looked after Laura Meadows in the aftermath of her assault a few months ago. If June said he was a good addition to the team then Sheelagh was inclined to believe that, though she made a mental note to ask Sam about him when she got the chance.

Paperwork was the order of the afternoon. She sat in her office with the door open, more able to listen to the voices floating along the corridor now she wasn't hearing Des's name every five minutes. That meant that her inherent nosiness kicked back into gear and when she saw Rob Thatcher hovering in the doorway of Inspector Gold's office she couldn't help but be intrigued, especially given how animated Gina's voice was. Only when she heard Rob let out a laugh did she give in and move towards the door on a pretext.

'Hang on there, Ma'am,' he was saying. 'I'm under orders to leave as soon as you start down that path.'

'Whose orders?' Gina asked.

'The DI,' Rob answered. 'She suggested you might get a bit enthusiastic.'

'Cheek,' Gina muttered, though there was a smile on her face. 'Come on, I'll fill her in myself. Blokes like Dennis Weaver give boxing a bad name.'

Standing by the door, Sheelagh was in Rob's line of sight when he turned to go back upstairs then Gina's when she came out into the corridor.

'What are you grinning at?' she questioned.

'Nothing, Ma'am,' Sheelagh returned, unable to clear her expression in time.

'Oh, you're both as bad as each other,' Gina grumbled as she disappeared towards the staircase.

The afternoon wore on relatively calmly compared to recent days. Sheelagh could feel herself uncoiling, feel herself growing accustomed to this new shift in her life and she threw herself into her work as part of that. A while later she was trying to decipher Honey Harman's account of a robbery arrest when a familiar figure swept into the office and pushed the door closed.

'You're gonna love this,' Sam commented then pulled a bar of chocolate from her pocket. 'Here, before I forget.'

Sheelagh gratefully reached for it. 'What will I love?'

'I'm going to a boxing match with Gina tonight.' When Sheelagh burst out laughing she growled in mock-affront. 'Oi!'

'Come on,' Sheelagh argued, trying to stifle her grin, 'if that wasn't designed to get me laughing I don't know what was.'

'Well, at least that's one benefit,' Sam retorted. 'Almost makes up for it.'

'Is this to do with the case that Rob's working on?' asked Sheelagh, breaking open the chocolate and offering a piece across. Sam took it with a smile and busied herself with chewing for a few moments; Sheelagh did the same.

'We're investigating Dennis Weaver,' Sam said finally. 'Match-fixing, bribery, all the usual things. One of the guys tonight is meant to be throwing the fight so we thought we'd take a look. I was originally meant to be going with Phil but you should've seen the look on Gina's face. Phil pulled out so it's just me and her.

'Have you found out what's going on with him yet?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Personal problems,' Sam answered with a shrug. 'For once I actually think it's the right kind of personal problems, if you know what I mean.'

'With Phil, I know what you mean,' returned Sheelagh. 'Anyway, I think Gina's company enough for you.'

Sam grinned and stretched out. 'She scares me when she talks about boxing, never mind being there. It's like Abi in a shoe shop.'

Chuckling, Sheelagh caught sight of the woman in question about to knock on the door and warned, 'I think you're off.'

Letting out a little groan, Sam stretched across the table and whipped the chocolate bar away, breaking another piece off as the door opened.

'Oi,' Sheelagh complained, 'that was meant to be for me.'

Sam just shot her a smile – the one Sheelagh knew she reserved only for her at work – and swivelled around to face Gina in the doorway. 'Are we ready?'

'If you've finished gossiping,' Gina answered.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sam said, 'You'd better still be here when I get back.'

'Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world,' she replied. 'Have fun.'

For the next few hours the only interruptions to her paperwork were a couple of queries from officers and one rather bizarre phone conversation with a pensioner she'd helped with a burglary back in the summer. Apparently her cat was missing and Sheelagh had to gently persuade her that it wasn't a police matter. All that conversation really did was make her miss the steady presence of her mother who would've been a Godsend in the mess she'd made of things.

She became aware of some activity in the corridor, maybe that innate ability she seemed to have to sense Sam's presence kicking in again. Patiently, she waited, knowing that if Sam was back in the station then she'd keep her word and drop by. Ten minutes later, she did, dropping into the chair with much less bounce than she'd had earlier in the evening.

'What happened?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam exhaled slowly. 'Well, our guy was being pummelled then he just changed his mind, decided not to throw the match. Good for Gina – she'd put money on him – but not so good for Dennis Weaver. He didn't like losing his money so, when we went back after the match, we found Joel Brewer unconscious. We arrested Weaver but we've got nothing to hold him on, especially since Brewer's now come round and said he didn't see what happened. Gina's just released him.'

'Speak of the devil,' Sheelagh said, nodding behind her where Gina was leaning in through the doorway.

'My ears burning?' she queried. 'Come on, the pair of you. There's a drink with your name on it. A soft drink, Sheelagh,' she added when Sam made to open her mouth. 'Come on.'

Settled across the corridor, Sheelagh felt more at home than ever. Gina was reclining in her chair with her feet up on the desk while Sam seemed equally as relaxed with her feet on the ground. In this cocoon it was difficult to believe how mixed up things were outside of it.

'You should've seen this one,' Gina said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

'Gina...' Sam said warningly.

'Looking at me like I was crazy one minute and screaming her head off the next.'

Sam rolled her eyes. 'You _are_ crazy and I was not screaming my head off.'

'Oh, you enjoyed it, admit it.'

Raising her glass to her lips, Sam conceded that with a half-shrug and Sheelagh grinned. 'Hey,' Sam said, 'you can keep quiet as well.'

'I didn't say a word,' she said innocently.

'You didn't have to,' Sam retorted.

Sheelagh just smirked at her and looked to Gina. 'How enthusiastic was she exactly?'

As Sam groaned and covered her face, Gina replied, 'Counting down with the rest of us, even got a hug out of her at the end of it all.'

'That sounds pretty involved to me,' Sheelagh said with a sidelong glance at Sam's evident discomfort. 'I'll remember that.'

'I should hope so,' Gina said.

Fifteen minutes later Sheelagh reluctantly returned to her own office to pack up. To her surprise, Sam followed her across and scrutinised her.

'How are you doing?' she asked.

'I'm okay,' Sheelagh answered, more firmly than she had yesterday. She knew Sam registered the shift in tone from the growing smile on her face.

'Let me know if you need anything,' Sam said as she stepped back to the doorway.

'A full account of you at the boxing might be nice,' Sheelagh suggested.

'Not a chance,' Sam said. 'You'd have to beat it out of me.'

'Maybe I will,' she retorted.

The last thing she saw before Sam turned away was the challenging quirk of an eyebrow.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam didn't feel much like herself at the moment.

It was like she was swimming against the current, trying to keep her head above water then losing her focus and sliding back again. So she allowed herself to be swept along, following the current where it led her – and, invariably, it led her back to Sheelagh.

On the morning when she'd woken up to remember that Sheelagh was sleeping just across the hall in Abi's bedroom, the knowledge had set her body on fire. She wasn't proud of it. She was still adjusting to thinking of a woman in that way, besides the fact that it was wildly inappropriate considering what Sheelagh was going through right at that moment. But she couldn't help where her thoughts wandered to as she lay in bed that morning until she pushed them to the back of her mind and set about her day, ensuring Sheelagh ate something and getting her into work. That brought about fresh aches because she realised immediately that she liked having Sheelagh around in the morning. She wasn't usually good company first thing – she liked her own routines and plotting her day in her head – but she'd enjoyed Sheelagh's presence that morning, and she'd missed it since.

Keeping her distance was something she knew in her head was the right thing to do, but her heart was having none of it – Sheelagh needed her and there was no way she was retreating from that. Besides, she was physically drawn to her side. In the past she'd joked about a magnetic pull bringing her to Sheelagh; at least now she knew what was really behind it. After Juliet's death, for instance, she'd somehow found time to call Patrick and fill him in, despite trying to focus on the Alan Best murder investigation. Then, left alone with Sheelagh in Gina's office, she'd succumbed to the temptation of comforting her. She could still summon up Sheelagh's weight against her as she'd rested into the crook of her neck. It was an exquisite moment, made all the more precious because it was so unexpected. Sam had never felt more unbalanced and content at the same time. She'd savoured every second, closing her eyes and breathing in Sheelagh's scent. Then Gina had startled them both and she'd felt a wave of panic at discovery. She couldn't wait to get away after that, though she'd fulfilled her promise to take Sheelagh home. Once again, her resolution to keep her distance was rocked by the simple lyrics of 'I've Been Waiting For You' as they drove along – she'd never listen to that song in the same way again. But she couldn't have imagined as she'd watched Sheelagh into the house that night how complication was going to be heaped on complication the next day.

Hearing from June that Des was alive shouldn't have triggered any twinge of personal disappointment, but she had to admit it had. The professional anxiety was more prevalent though; the unremitting belief that Des really would be better off dead as Sheelagh had suggested. The morning before, at home, Sheelagh had tacitly admitted to the perjury, protecting Sam's professional integrity by keeping it vague. She'd appreciated that, she'd thought they understood each other. They had to an extent but what Sheelagh was protecting her from was something far worse than perjury. All the puzzle pieces clicked into place when she located Sheelagh in the bathroom and heard the full, unvarnished truth. She understood everything all of a sudden – Sheelagh's distress, her questions about Abi and Glenn, why Des had gone into meltdown and nearly killed Reg.

And yet... She'd been willing to close her ears and pretend Sheelagh had told her nothing. She recognised more than anyone else would the opportunity to give Sheelagh's unborn child the gift of obliviousness that she'd tried and failed to give Abi. Regardless of what Des had done, his son or daughter didn't deserve to suffer for it. Of course, as a police officer, her instinct was to go straight to Jack but, not for the first time in the last few weeks, her professional instincts were overruled. Despite knowing that she was giving valuable escape time to a copper on the run, she'd known she had to give Sheelagh the time to adjust to the new twist. If things were going to crumble further she at least deserved any respite she could grab.

That had held until her methodical mind had started ticking over the possibilities in the early hours and she'd realised that Des was still a danger to Sheelagh. He was reckless by nature and had nothing to lose anymore. Sheelagh was out of his reach, whether he knew that now or not, but the baby was a different matter. If she'd been looking for a way of persuading Sheelagh to inform on him, she would've found it there, but that wasn't her intention. She was genuinely worried on Sheelagh's behalf – the last thing she needed on top of everything was a threat to her child. It was a miracle she hadn't had another health scare given everything that had happened in the past week. Keeping them both safe was Sam's priority.

However, after the discussion with Superintendent Okaro she'd experienced a bit of a wobble. It was discovering that there'd been what Sheelagh had called an 'incident' that had alerted the Super to her relationship with Des. Her jealousy had resurfaced with a vengeance and she'd had to distance herself, unable to ensure that she wouldn't betray what she was feeling. If Sheelagh had sought her out then she would've helped her in a heartbeat but she tried to exercise her caution by backing away. The trouble was, once the spurt of jealousy had subsided she just found she missed Sheelagh and that she needed to know she was okay. So she'd deliberately stayed late at work to see her, hesitating in the canteen before she approached her to control the butterflies in her stomach. She didn't appreciate feeling like a teenager again, though she'd be less critical of Abi the next time she did something so stupid as develop a crush on someone highly inappropriate. The way Sheelagh uncoiled on seeing her in the canteen, however, was reward enough for any discomfort Sam might have to endure. For now she'd just have to live with it and work out a plan of action afterwards.

Juggling her work with her desire to keep an eye on Sheelagh was proving tricky. It had been a week since the boxing match debacle with Gina and last night the victim had relapsed. When they joined Nick at the hospital she took out her frustrations on Phil – he'd got a commendation thanks to an investigation that Weaver helped him with at his old nick, if that wasn't a way in then what was? The only thing that came out of that was Phil reporting back that Weaver had an alibi for the assault. He wanted to drop it, said it was going nowhere, but that just made her more determined to bring Weaver to book. Anybody that Phil was so desperate not to investigate was ripe for the picking as far as she was concerned – all she had to do was remember the murky mess he'd got himself involved in with Ron Gregory.

The case took on a new flavour that evening when Madison, Dennis Weaver's three year-old daughter, was abducted from a multi-storey while out with her mother. No progress was made with the investigation overnight and Phil was uncharacteristically persistent, following her through the station the next morning with Rob licking at his heels.

'What about the search?' Phil demanded. 'The kidnap squad?'

'No leads yet, Phil, as far as I know,' she replied.

He growled. 'Look, we must be able to do something.'

Frowning, she said, 'Well, hang on a minute, yesterday when I wanted you to show some interest in the Weavers you didn't wanna know.'

'Yeah,' he argued, 'but a kid's been abducted, it changes everything.'

'Right,' she said slowly. Halting, she turned to him and tried to contain her smile. 'You've made my mind up for me. I want you to act as family liaison officer to the Weavers.'

'You what?' Phil said incredulously as Rob grinned beside him.

'You heard,' Sam returned.

He cringed. 'Guv, I'm hardly tea and sympathy material, am I?'

'He's not wrong there, Guv,' Rob pointed out.

'See?' Phil said. 'Can't you get Eva to do it?'

'Look,' she said. 'I know you've got the listening skills and empathy of a breeze block, Phil. But that's not what's needed here. Weaver's up to his neck in all sorts and some of his associates will have lost a lot of money when Joel Brewer decided not to throw that fight. So,' she continued, 'if we wanna find that little girl we need to know who Weaver's wound up. And how nasty they are. And as you're our expert in all things nasty...low...devious...'

'Yeah, thanks very much,' he muttered.

'You're welcome,' she replied instantly. Moving to the next set of doors, she glanced back and saw him still stationary. 'Shift your arse,' she told him.

As she walked through the doors she was aware of the buoyant feeling in her stomach, the sensation of getting one over on Phil Hunter too brilliant to keep to herself. So she diverted towards the Sergeants' Office, delighted to see Sheelagh at her desk.

'Knock, knock,' she said as she leaned against the door frame.

Sheelagh glanced up, a smile spreading over her face. The obvious happiness at seeing her made Sam grin all the more, warmth spreading through to her toes.

'I dread to think what you've done, with that look on your face,' Sheelagh commented, dropping her pen.

'Oi,' she said. 'I resent that.'

'Do you?' challenged Sheelagh. 'Come on, what have you been up to?'

After checking along the corridor, she said, 'I just assigned Phil as FLO to the Weavers.'

Sheelagh stifled her chuckle. 'You're a wicked woman, DI Nixon.'

'Oh, I know, Sheelagh,' she returned.

The laugh that raised followed her along the corridor and reverberated in her mind for the rest of the day, not that she did much to banish it. She appreciated the little illusion that she and Sheelagh had any relationship beyond friends and colleagues; right now she'd accept any illusion she could get to prolong the sense of contentment she got from a few seconds in Sheelagh's company.

The day, naturally, became more complex pretty quickly. Phil actually made the right call as FLO – surprising her more than anyone – by passing on a ransom demand straight on and telling a lie to get Dennis Weaver well away from the action. Thanks to that, they managed to arrest the kidnapper – Joel Brewer's distraught father – and retrieve three year-old Madison Weaver with not a scratch on her. Sam led the operation at the park and then, after having the kid checked out, returned her home with Phil and Nick.

As they walked into the house she had to hang back and take a call about a pretty nasty stabbing. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Phil hand Madison over to Christine, still trying to gauge his relationship with the Weavers, to no avail. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to decipher it now. Ending her call, she crossed to the little tableau.

'Right, I think we're done here.' She extended her hand. 'Mr Weaver. I look forward to seeing you again soon, under different circumstances.'

'Yeah, well, not if I can help it,' Weaver replied. 'Close the door on your way out.'

Sam looked to Phil. 'Right, we're off. There's been a stabbing. Young woman over on Taff Road.'

Without waiting for his response, she walked out of the open door onto Dennis Weaver's expansive driveway. When she reached the car, she turned around, expecting him to be behind her but he wasn't. It took him a few minutes to appear and there was a look on his face she didn't recognise. It disconcerted her a bit but she still didn't have time to work it out.

'Get a move on,' she told him. 'This is a nasty one, no time to wait while you're cosying up to your dodgy mates.'

Though he rolled his eyes, he didn't bother arguing with her. That was disconcerting as well.

When they arrived at the victim's house Phil stomped inside while Sam lingered to talk to SOCO by the door. Then she gestured Phil and Eva, who had beaten them to the scene, into the living room of the house. It was pretty evident that it wasn't clear cut – it was the wrong time of day for a stabbing like this and not much seemed to have been taken. There was no point of entry either, suggesting that the victim knew her attacker. Before they could delve into speculation about all of that, she got a call telling her the victim was awake. Much easier to ask her what had happened this afternoon than stand around hypothesising. Sending Phil and Eva down to the hospital to interview her, Sam returned to the station.

Upstairs in her office she was dealing with a few troublesome emails when there was a knock on the open door. She recognised it as Sheelagh's immediately and looked up with a smile on her face.

'Present from Inspector Gold,' Sheelagh said, dumping a hefty pile of files onto the desk.

'Ouch,' Sam commented. 'Was she scared to bring them up herself?'

'I volunteered,' answered Sheelagh. 'I heard you were back. And that you found little Madison earlier safe and sound.'

'Yeah,' she replied, leaning back. 'For something that was meant to be a mad throw of the dice, assigning Phil as FLO actually worked.'

'There you go, doubting your own abilities again.'

'Like that ever happens,' Sam returned with a grin. 'How you feeling?'

Sheelagh grimaced and patted her stomach. 'We're doing okay. I'll see you later.'

'See you,' Sam said softly as she watched her go then she shook herself and rose to collect an email from the printer outside the door. She'd barely crossed the threshold when Phil appeared in front of her.

'You must love Sheelagh Murphy,' he muttered darkly.

Sam almost flinched, fear slithering around her stomach. 'Excuse me?'

'Always sucking up, isn't she?' he questioned. 'Reckons you're a big-shot, backed the wrong horse as far as I'm concerned.'

As it sunk in that he was referring to a professional relationship – friendship at the most – Sam's expression hardened. 'Natalie Mercer,' she said, returning to her desk with him on her heels. 'Any likely suspects?'

'We've been looking at similar aggravated burglaries and Terry's been looking at PPU's books, see if they have anyone,' Phil answered.

'Right, try the National Crime Faculty for sex offenders as well,' she suggested as Eva ducked into the office behind him.

'Got something for you, Guv,' she said. 'Tony says that several of Natalie's neighbours have reported a lot of comings and goings from the flat.'

'So what are you thinking?' Sam asked. 'Drugs or prostitution?'

'Yeah, on the game,' Eva replied.

'She just could have been a popular girl,' Phil pointed out.

'No, I think Eva's right,' answered Sam. 'Talk to Natalie Mercer again but this time push a bit harder. We need to know if this attacker could've been a client of hers.' As they turned to leave, she added, 'Good call, Eva.'

It was nice to see a satisfied smile on her friend's face as she followed Phil out of the office. Sam received a couple of updates from the pair of them during the afternoon and they made an arrest. The boy lived across the road and watched the flats, compiling detailed notes on the comings and goings and Natalie Mercer's flat in particular. He was also found in possession of her watch. However, the stumbling block to certainty was that he was schizophrenic.

Mid-afternoon, Sam was checking in with another detective when Phil and Eva returned from interviewing the boy and she made a beeline for them.

'So, do we have enough to charge Aaron Jacobs?' she questioned.

'I don't think so, Guv,' Eva said.

'We've got plenty,' argued Phil.

Eva shook her head. 'No, the only real piece of evidence we've got is Natalie's watch.'

'We know he bothered her in the street and he had all that crazy stuff about her in his flat,' Phil retorted.

'But he has an illness,' Eva said. 'He passes the time of day watching the flats. These things do not prove that he stabbed the girl.'

'No,' Sam conceded. 'But if Aaron wasn't ill, you wouldn't be saying that. You'd just assume it was one huge coincidence.'

'Where's the mask?' Eva demanded. 'Where's the clothes that he wore to commit the attack? There must have been a lot of blood.'

Phil growled. 'He had a map marking the exact spot the key was kept!'

'Look,' Sam said after a moment, 'I'm gonna bail him for now and wait for forensics. That way we can actually place Aaron at the scene. Do you wanna do the honours, Phil?' she questioned.

With a scowl, he stomped out of CID and Sam shook her head before casting her eye to Eva.

'There's just something, Guv,' Eva muttered.

'It's not clear-cut,' Sam agreed, patting her on the arm. 'Hopefully forensics'll tell us one way or another. If it isn't him then the big question is what was he doing with that watch?'

Leaving Eva with that thought she went back into her office then cursed as she caught sight of the time. She was meant to be in a meeting with Ramani about CSU's caseload ten minutes ago. Grabbing the relevant folder from desk, she hurried to CSU and got through the catch-up in double-quick time. One thing she appreciated about working with Ramani was that she was straight to the point and intuitive about what needed doing. Although she was newly-promoted to DS Sam didn't doubt she wouldn't stay at that rank for too many years.

When she got back to her office this time she found a note on her desk. She took it straight out to the main office and glanced around.

'Where's Eva?' she asked.

Phil was just in the process of returning to his own desk. 'Dunno.'

'Well, Tony's had an interesting result on the door to door,' she said, halting between him and Rob.

'Oh, yeah?' Phil queried coolly.

'Yeah,' she went on, 'one of Natalie Mercer's neighbours, a night shift worker, saw an unfamiliar car parked in one of the residents' bays so he was gonna report it. That was really early this morning. Now, the driver was an IC3 and fits the description of the attacker.'

'As do a lot of people,' Phil remarked.

Sam reined in her immediate retort and instead said, 'Now, I know you're convinced that Aaron assaulted Natalie Mercer but we have to consider that this guy could be the attacker.'

'Okay,' he muttered, 'I'll follow it up.'

'Do we know the registered keeper?' Rob questioned.

She read out the name, highlighting that the guy didn't have a record but his address was in North London. Rob, dragging something useful out of his brain for once, recalled a couple of similar attacks to the one on Natalie Mercer which he'd come across in his searches earlier. The noticeable feature was that the assailant had worn a mask, just like Natalie Mercer's attacker.

'Keep looking into it, Rob,' she said then turned her attention to Phil, regarding him much as she would a puppy. 'Philip, come on.'

Thanks to his earlier remark about Sheelagh she wasn't inclined to be especially nice to him. They drove in silence to the suspect's address, only to find a post box full of unopened mail. With a little poking around they found one letter that offered them a lead – the guy had been enrolled at a college. She tasked Phil with following that up when they got back to the station, earning a muted response.

A little later she found him at the fax machine waiting on the information from the college. As soon as it came through he got that look on his face, the triumphant arrogance she detested. It turned out that the suspect had been in the station earlier under a different name – and that he was Aaron Jacobs's social worker.

With Eva still nowhere to be found, she accompanied Phil to see the suspect. Though he was perfectly calm when he let them in Sam could tell they had him on the ropes. He didn't have a satisfactory answer to why, when he'd been in the area at the time of the attack, he hadn't seen fit to include that in his statement earlier. He gave them the address of the client he'd allegedly been visiting near Natalie Mercer's flat and she decided to play along, acting as though everything he'd told them was perfectly acceptable.

As they moved to leave, though, Sam turned back. 'You've changed your name, Mr Fisher,' she said. 'Why would you do that?'

'I've got a lot of white clients,' he replied. 'I got fed up of spelling out my name.'

She smiled, wondering how thick he thought she was. 'Thanks for your time,' she said. 'We'll be in touch.'

As they left the house she could tell that Phil was deep in thought. Usually she wouldn't give his musings the time of day but she was uneasy too.

'What are you thinking?' she asked.

'Something's not right,' he answered as they walked back to the car. 'Look, Eva told me that she thinks that Aaron didn't carry it out the attack, that he just witnessed it.'

Sam pondered that. 'So Aaron knew it was Martin?'

Phil shook his head. 'No, the attacker was wearing a mask. But Martin could've got this information about Natalie from Aaron. That'd explain how he found out about the back door key.'

'Yeah,' she said slowly as her phone rang. It was Rob. She listened carefully then reported back to Phil, 'Right, the social work department has confirmed that Martin was working in the Free and Barnet area when the first two attacks took place. Both the victims were known to Social Services so he could've actually accessed them through his system.' Glancing at him, she realised he wasn't listening. 'Phil?!'

He banged his hands on the bonnet of the car they were next to. 'This is Eva's car,' he said as he started running back towards the house. 'Call her!'

More than a little perplexed, she tried but then saw Phil busting through the door back into Fisher's house and ran after him. By the time she arrived Phil had Fisher held fast and there was Eva slumped on the floor. Sliding down beside her, Sam cradled her head.

'Eva, are you all right?' she asked. When a nod came, she pressed, 'Are you sure?'

'I'm fine,' Eva said, her voice scratchy.

Sam wasn't too sure about that, nor was she was sure about how fine she was herself. They waited for the panda car to arrive, Sam leading Eva back to her car and being reluctantly convinced that she was fit to drive. If the situation was reversed, she'd insist on it as well. It was a statement more than anything else, driving purposefully off while Fisher was being escorted away in a marked vehicle. Sam let her get on with it, the same way that she waited for Eva to arrive in custody before she allowed Phil to book Fisher in.

As the three of them were walking towards the back staircase, Sam asked, 'Are you sure you don't wanna see the FME?'

'I'm fine,' Eva replied.

'It's lucky the knight in shining armour turned up to save her,' Phil crowed from a few steps behind.

Sam shot him a glance. 'None of this would've happened if you hadn't spent so long chasing the wrong man,' she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes and continued gloating all the way up the stairs until the DCI pulled him into his office for what sounded like a congratulatory word. Only when he'd departed did she realise they'd lost Eva but she assumed she'd gone to clean herself up in the bathroom – or maybe to check in with the FME after all. Certainly, when she arrived in CID a little later she seemed preoccupied.

Crossing to her desk, Sam asked, 'Are you really, okay?'

Eva chuckled. 'Guv, I'm okay, honestly. You sound like my mum, not my boss.'

Sam patted her on the arm and stepped back towards her office. 'That's my cue to shut up.'

Settled back at her desk, she couldn't help but grin to herself. She knew full well that she wouldn't have been so demonstrably worried about one of her team if it wasn't for Sheelagh's influence on her life. Of course, she cared about Eva's well-being and considered her a friend but the way she'd thrown herself into protecting Sheelagh in the last few weeks had obviously had an impact on the rest of her life. She'd even sounded like Sheelagh a little bit just then.

Given where her train of thought had led her, it was inevitable that she dropped by the Sergeants' Office before she left the station. She took a moment in the doorway to drink in the sight of Sheelagh with her hand pressed to her forehead, deep in concentration. It was entrancing, there was no other word for it.

'Hey,' she said finally.

Sheelagh looked up, shooting her that special smile that Sam had only ever seen directed at her. 'You off?'

Glancing along the corridor, she stepped into the office and closed the door. 'How are you holding up?'

'Not looking forward to a few days off,' Sheelagh replied. 'I'll go mad.'

'You need the rest,' Sam pointed out, sitting down opposite her. 'I expect you to look after yourself.'

'Or else what?' Sheelagh challenged.

She shrugged. 'I'll think of something.'

It seemed like Sheelagh was relaxing by the second. Closing the file on her desk, she said, 'I heard about the trouble Eva got herself into earlier.'

'This place doesn't miss a trick, does it?' Sam questioned. 'Well, she's okay physically but she's shaken up. Maybe it was my fault.'

Sheelagh frowned. 'How do you jump to that conclusion?'

'Phil's had one of those days,' she explained. 'Comes up smelling of roses whatever he does. I think Eva got caught in the crossfire a bit, tried to go the extra mile, being a bit too hard on herself. She certainly shouldn't have been round at Martin Fisher's on her own. Though she hasn't said it, I reckon Phil was pushing her buttons. He was convinced the schizophrenic kid was guilty, she wasn't getting much support for her theory that he wasn't.'

'I thought you bailed him,' said Sheelagh. 'That sounds like support to me.'

Sam faltered. 'Yes, but –'

'You talk about Eva being too hard on herself,' Sheelagh cut in. 'Don't you think you're the expert on that? You can't control everything, you know, as much as you'd like to.'

'Oh, I know that,' she said softly, wistfully maybe. The curious expression she caught in Sheelagh's blue eyes – her beautiful blue eyes – was far too interrogatory for comfort. Clearing her throat, Sam stood. 'Please rest while you're off, okay?'

'I will,' Sheelagh promised. 'Goodnight.'

'Night,' she murmured, dragging her gaze away with effort. Only when she was halfway down the corridor did she start breathing properly again, her mind replaying the confusion in Sheelagh's eyes as she'd fled.

* * *

It had almost slipped her mind that the next day was the dedication of Cass Rickman's memorial tree. Unlike the Sun Hill fire victims, Sam had a vested interest in attending. It wasn't only a case of Cass being a popular officer she wanted to show respect for but also because the serial killer investigation loomed large in both her memory and her career. She might've got Pat Kitson in the end but that really wasn't the point. As she walked out to the front of the station she began to feel regret in a way she hadn't really allowed herself to before. Perhaps that was Sheelagh's influence telling on her again.

She was startled when she joined the clump of officers outside the station and saw the back of Sheelagh's head a few yards in front of her. She'd rather assumed that having the day off meant that she wouldn't attend, though she should've guessed that Sheelagh would want to pay her respects too, despite never having met Cass. After all, she thought a lot of Nick Klein and she knew the history there. Turning up today was just the kind of thing Sheelagh would do.

Sam didn't approach her, however; recognising that the woman she was standing with was Lillian Rickman, Cass's mum. That was just like Sheelagh too – comforting the mother of a woman she'd never met and, judging from the expression on Mrs Rickman's face, doing it well. Once again, Sam was surprised by the depth of affection that bowled her over just by looking at Sheelagh's back. Though Terry came to stand beside her, she could barely focus on his words. Her gaze kept shifting over to Sheelagh, irresistibly so.

When Nick and Lillian stepped to the front of the group everyone fell silent, grouping together a little more professionally. Sam found herself behind Sheelagh, June half-between them. From what she knew, Sheelagh hadn't spotted her presence – she would've acknowledged her at the very least.

Nick cleared his throat, standing tall in front of them, though he struggled a little with his words. 'When Cass was killed I thought I'd lost her forever. But I hadn't,' he added. 'Because she left me with a true sense of what's important in life – friendship, loyalty and being able to do the right thing. And if I can do that I'll never lose her, she'll always be with me.'

Reaching over, he took Mrs Rickman's hand. She was evidently struggling but she seemed determined to do her daughter proud.

'I know Cass would've been made up with all of this,' she said after a moment. 'She loved working with you lot. And I know you thought a lot of her. And now there's a little piece of Sun Hill that is forever Cass.'

Sam's eyes had caught on Sheelagh again, watching her exchange a glance with June as Mrs Rickman finished her brief speech. She couldn't help the fresh spurt of jealousy in her stomach, as inappropriate as it was given the fact she was watching a bereaved mother dedicate a tree to her daughter. Perhaps it was her body's way of masking the very real sense of guilt that she knew should be plaguing her right about now.

They all watched Mrs Rickman plant the tree with Nick's help and applauded. As the group broke up, Sam turned to retreat into the station, intent on making it into her office without being dragged into conversation. However, before she made it through the main doors a hand rested on her shoulder and her breath hitched. She knew without looking exactly who the hand belonged to and she exhaled before she glanced backwards. Sure enough, it was Sheelagh smiling at her and, not trusting herself to speak, Sam simply gestured upstairs. Sheelagh nodded and followed her up the staircase, through CID and into her office. Only when the door was shut did Sam risk looking at her and she was surprised by how pregnant she looked without her uniform.

'I look like an elephant,' Sheelagh said.

Sam smiled as they both sat down. 'I didn't say that, you did.'

Though she mustered a small smile, Sheelagh was watching her with a concerned expression on her face. 'How are you doing?'

'That's my line,' she replied.

'Sam...' Sheelagh crossed her arms and studied her seriously. 'You don't need to pretend with me.'

Against anyone else, she would've held out. Then again, no one else noticed the smallest cracks in her composure like Sheelagh could. Sighing, she tilted her head up then admitted, 'Cass shouldn't have died. I should've figured it out. The connection was there, I should've found it.'

'It's not that simple,' answered Sheelagh, 'and you know it.'

'Right now it feels that simple,' she returned.

'You can't change the past,' Sheelagh said softly. 'But you can learn from it. The very fact we're having this conversation tells me you have. You wouldn't dwell on it, you wouldn't want to change it if you weren't a different person now.'

Sam's brow furrowed. 'How do you know I'm different?'

'Instinct,' Sheelagh replied with a shrug then she smiled. 'And I think the phrase Gina used was 'heart of ice'.'

Snorting, Sam massaged her neck. 'Guilty.'

'Before,' said Sheelagh firmly. 'Things change.'

'They certainly do,' she said. Biting her lip, she glanced up, 'Sheelagh, I think there's something –'

A knock on the door broke her off and brought a flush to her face. As Rob's head bobbed through the gap she let out her breath.

'Yes, Rob?' she asked, her voice quivering.

'Sorry to interrupt, Guv, but the DCI wants to see you soon as.'

'Thanks,' she answered. 'I'll be right there.'

Rob nodded and disappeared while Sheelagh stood up. Though she had a relatively impassive expression on her face, Sam could read the concern in her eyes.

'It was good of you to come in today,' Sam said.

Sheelagh waved that away as she stepped to the door. 'I'll see you in a few days. Take care.'

Sam watched her vanish around the corner then clamped her hands together and sat completely still for a few seconds.

She'd known it was likely to happen; she should've guarded herself against it. Opening up to Sheelagh in any way left her vulnerable to moments like that. Gazing into Sheelagh's kind eyes could easily dupe her into thinking that whatever she said would be welcomed. Not that she even knew what she'd been planning on saying. The words had slipped from her tongue before she had a chance to catch herself. If Rob hadn't walked in then God knows what she might've said.

How could she countenance putting any pressure on Sheelagh to reject her right now? What did she expect to happen? That Sheelagh would see the light and fall into her arms? That was fanciful, fantastical even. She'd already catalogued the reasons why that wouldn't happen numerous times, mostly when she was unable to sleep because her mind refused to stop working over every conversation she'd ever had with Sheelagh, every meaningless touch, every lengthy look. Holding on to those images would have to be enough because she sure as hell wasn't going to get anymore than that. If she wasn't careful she'd wreck their friendship and hurt Sheelagh in the process.

No, she needed to get a grip and try and guard the part of herself that physically hungered for Sheelagh night after night. How she could manage that was still up for debate. After all, she wasn't completely sure how Sheelagh had circumvented her natural defences in the first place so how could she resurrect them? It might be that knowing she had to simply wasn't enough.

* * *

It was nearly a week before Sam managed any further meaningful contact with Sheelagh. Yes, they passed in the corridor occasionally, but that just allowed time to say hello and check on each other's health. Sam examined Sheelagh's face rather than listened to her affirmative answers, though she'd concede that Sheelagh was coping very well if the determination in her eyes was anything to go by. Nothing had yet been heard of Des and Sam was fairly certain he'd taken the opportunity to run. Everybody was on high alert anyway, meaning Sheelagh and the baby were safe. Sam contented herself with that and told herself that the distance between them over the last week was good in the sense that it stopped her wanting to act on her feelings.

However, when she passed Sheelagh early one morning she was stopped by two things – firstly, the fact that she was no longer in full uniform thanks to the growing bump, instead in a plain white shirt and elasticated trousers, and, secondly, that she looked extremely troubled. Without much thought, Sam touched her elbow and indicated for them to move somewhere a little more private. A quick glance into the Sergeants' Office revealed Smithy hard at work so Sam steered her towards the bathrooms instead. There was a constable in there washing her hands but she rapidly disappeared and then Sam studied Sheelagh.

'What's happened?' she asked.

Sheelagh sighed and rubbed her eyes. 'Reg is back today.'

'Right,' Sam said slowly, trying to keep her poker face on.

'I should've gone to see him in hospital,' continued Sheelagh with a wince. 'I know I should've. I wanted to but I've been so focused on getting through one day at a time. I didn't want to think of the bigger picture, why Des did what he did.'

'That's understandable,' Sam said. 'You need to focus on staying healthy, for both you and the baby. There's no shame in wanting to forget what Des did. Trust me, I know.'

A smile flitted across Sheelagh's face then it was replaced by the same preoccupied look Sam had seen in the corridor. 'He thought I'd betrayed him,' she murmured. 'While I was with Patrick Des thought I was at the Yard with the Super telling them what he'd done. Something had come over the radio, I don't know what. But he thought I'd betrayed him. That's why he panicked and decided to try and kill himself.'

Sam absorbed that. The pain etched on Sheelagh's brow propelled her forward despite her misgivings, and she rested a hand on her arm. 'Don't even think about it,' she said. 'This is not your fault. You went against your better judgement to keep his secret, even for a day.'

'It wasn't my better judgement,' Sheelagh retorted. 'It was selfishness.'

'We could argue about that all day and we still wouldn't agree. The point is,' Sam continued, squeezing her hand, 'that you didn't betray him. And, even if he believes you did, that doesn't make you responsible for what he did to Reg. He left him for dead in there. And I know,' she went on quickly, 'how that makes you feel about your child but I really need you to accept that he has nothing to do with your baby beyond a tenuous genetic link. It's how you bring them up that matters, how you love them.'

Exhaling, Sheelagh whispered, 'I know you're right.'

'I know that doesn't help,' Sam returned. 'Not right now.'

'It helps more than you'd think,' answered Sheelagh, covering her hand and holding it tight.

The warmth spread through Sam. To ease her sudden discomfort, she questioned, 'How's Reg coping being back? Must be difficult, given everything that he –'

She broke off before she said something incriminatory about guessing Reg's knowledge of the station fire. That she'd read between the lines of Sheelagh's words the other week wasn't something they needed to discuss – as long as the knowledge remained unspoken then Sam could legitimately ignore it. However, Sheelagh obviously read it in her face. That fact made Sam nervous but she just cleared her throat and drew her hand away.

'He wants to quit,' Sheelagh said after a moment.

Sam inhaled deeply and shook her head. 'Talk him out of it if you can. The station's already lost too many good coppers thanks to Des. You know, people take the mickey out of him but he's an asset to this nick.'

'You're a softie really,' replied Sheelagh with a smile.

Before she could respond to that the door opened a crack: 'Guv, are you in there?'

Exchanging a perturbed glance with Sheelagh, she said, 'Rob, this is generally a private thing.'

'It's urgent,' he said. 'Please, Sam, I need your help.'

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut briefly. 'When he starts using my first name I know it's bad. I'll see you.'

Sheelagh inclined her head. 'Good luck.'

Walking out of the bathroom, she fell into step with Rob. She expected him to head upstairs but he veered towards the video room. Once inside he explained the specifics of the case he'd been drafted over to CSU to aid with this morning.

It was a dodgy one from the off. Someone had discovered a camera hidden in the changing rooms of the leisure centre. The swimming instructor had initially been blamed by the parents and, after an investigation where Rob and Ramani discovered incriminating duct tape in his locker, he was arrested for it. The suspect had admitted owning the camera but claimed it was stolen and some tapes had been recovered from his locker, though nothing to do with the changing rooms. All this Rob explained in a bit of a garbled manner, leaving Sam at a loss as to why he was dragging her into the case.

'I promised Ramani I could deal with this sensitively,' Rob muttered as he closed the door. When Sam snorted, he continued, 'Yes, I know, all right? But I'm out of my depth here, Sam! I don't know what to do.'

She'd known him long enough to realise quite how serious this was. 'Tell me,' she said simply.

'Simon knows Jasmine,' he explained. 'That's Ramani's step-daughter. He's her swimming instructor. Ramani knows him.'

'Okay...' Sam said slowly. 'That's unfortunate but –'

'Jasmine's on his tapes,' Rob cut in. 'Nothing explicit but it's in a private setting and it's – it's pretty personal stuff.'

'I think you better show me,' she said.

Nodding, he turned on the tape. As Rob said, the video was nothing physically inappropriate but it certainly wasn't appropriate in any other sense. Simon was audible off-camera asking questions. As the pair of them were focused on the footage the door abruptly opened and Sam glanced over.

'Ramani...' she murmured.

On instinct she grappled for the remote at the same time as Rob but Ramani got to it first and held it out of their reach, her eyes fixed on the screen.

'I'm sorry,' Rob said. 'It's your girl.'

It was obvious Ramani wasn't going to move until she'd seen everything. Rob looked as uncomfortable as Sam felt, though with him it might have been more about awkwardness than empathy. Given all that had happened with Abigail and Matt Boyden, Sam knew something of what Ramani was feeling and, in this situation, she'd insist on watching the tape too. She wouldn't criticise Ramani for that so she waited until the tape switched to another girl before she cleared her throat.

'Why don't we take this upstairs to my office?' she suggested.

As they climbed the stairs Sam cast a glance over to Ramani, noting that she was making a concerted effort to separate the personal and professional. Deciding to leave it for now, Sam closed the door behind them and moved to sit down behind her desk.

'What did the search of his house turn up?' she questioned.

'We didn't find any more tapes,' Ramani answered. 'But we did find loads of swimming costumes in a drawer under the bed.'

Sam nodded. 'So how are we doing with the tape from the showers?'

'Still being dried out,' Rob said. 'It'll be ready end of play.'

'Okay,' Sam murmured. 'Well, let's get him interviewed, see how he explains away the costumes. Unfortunately, the home movies aren't illegal. So...we could be bailing him.' She saw the dismay in Ramani's face and continued, 'Rob, do you want to set the interview up now?'

For once his sensitivity barometer was working and he exited with a quick, 'Guv.'

'He could be grooming these girls, you know,' Ramani pointed out. 'Voyeurism can be the first step on the sex crime ladder.'

'I know that, Ramani. But we haven't got the evidence.' When Ramani tugged open the door, she asked, 'Look, erm, do you wanna stand down from this case?'

'No, Guv,' Ramani said very softly.

Watching her close the door, Sam couldn't help but be concerned. However, she both understood Ramani's need to be involved in this and trusted her on a professional level. She'd have to keep an eye on the situation, of course, but she wasn't going to be draconian about it.

Following the interview, Ramani and Rob came back up to see her. Unusually for her, Ramani took no active part in reporting the pretty useless interview and instead crossed to the window.

Eventually, Rob concluded, 'He's been bailed – for now.'

'Well, keep digging around. I mean, this is a murky one.' Sam stood and rounded the desk. 'Did he identify any of those other girls on the videos?'

'He gave us some names,' Rob replied. 'He reckons they're all over sixteen. And we're gonna contact and confirm that and hopefully hear what happens after the camera stops rolling.'

Glancing to Ramani, she questioned, 'Have you spoken to Jasmine?'

She turned around and shook her head. 'No, no, erm... I'd like to do it face to face and not here so I've arranged to meet her at five at home.'

'Okay,' Sam said, returning to her chair. 'I wanna know how this guy operates. This could be the tip of the iceberg.'

'Or a guy who just likes dirty movies,' Rob retorted.

It was almost a relief to see that his sensitivity barometer was back to normal, though Ramani's grimace showed that his quip had hit a raw nerve. Sam dismissed them with a nod, exchanging a pointed – and, she hoped – sympathetic look with Ramani then settled back down to concentrate on her reports.

Later in the afternoon she was called downstairs by Rob to watch the video tape that had been in the camera when it was discovered and had been carefully dried out by the lab.

'So, what we got?' she asked.

'These are the changing room tapes, Guv,' Rob explained.

'Yeah,' she said then held up a hand before he started the tape and looked to Ramani. 'Are you sure you're up to this?'

'Absolutely fine,' Ramani answered. 'After this we go back to mine and interview Jasmine.'

'Okay, here we go,' said Rob, starting the tape.

Though Sam was still apprehensive about Ramani's presence, she knew if the roles were reversed she'd be as stubborn. As the tape ran on she kept shooting glances to Ramani but at least the only thing the tape contained was unequivocal evidence that Simon had planted the camera. He'd filmed himself doing it.

'Fool,' Sam said scornfully.

'Told you it was an amateur job,' Rob commented.

'I'll see you outside,' Ramani said abruptly.

As she fled, Sam exchanged a glance with Rob. This case had been good for him in some respects, however bad it had been for Ramani – it had shown them all that he could work for the good of his colleagues and do it appropriately. Given her experiences with him in the past, she was quietly impressed.

'We got him,' Rob said.

Sam just smiled grimly then turned and left the room.

It was inevitable, again, that her route upstairs would involve her checking on Sheelagh. She found her in her office, staring into space looking battered once more. Instantly, she stepped inside and closed the door. Looking up with a jolt, Sheelagh saw her and attempted a smile.

'Have you spoken to Reg?' Sam questioned as she sat down.

Sheelagh nodded. 'He's been reminded that he's not Des's sidekick, he's okay.'

'That's good to hear,' Sam said then surveyed her shrewdly. 'So why aren't you happy about it?'

'Reg said he can move on,' Sheelagh murmured. 'He said we can both move on.'

Sighing, Sam stretched a hand over to her arm. 'Give it a little while. You've gotta take it one step at a time.' Though the words pained her, she asked, 'Have you heard from Patrick?'

'He's found a flat,' answered Sheelagh. 'The boys are adamant they're going to stay with him, at least for the time being.'

'I'm sorry,' Sam said. 'They'll come round, I'm sure. What about Siobhan?'

'Well, she was only half at home anyway,' Sheelagh replied with a limp shrug. 'I think she'll take the chance to escape once and for all. She's staying with a cousin this week.'

'A bit of time and space might be good for them, good for all of you,' Sam returned. 'I know it's easier said than done but concentrate on keeping yourself healthy.'

'And then what?' Sheelagh queried softly. 'I'm stuck in an empty house with a baby trying to hold down a full-time job? I don't know how to do this, Sam.'

Sam massaged circles into her arm. 'Like I said, one step at a time. Besides,' she added, 'you're not doing anything alone. I know of a few reputable nannies, fully-registered. We can talk to them together if you'd like. At least it's somewhere to start.'

If she wasn't completely mistaken, the panic on Sheelagh's face eased just a bit. Sam met her eye and smiled before reluctantly releasing her arm.

'I'd better go,' she said, rising. 'I'm off the next couple of days and Abi might appreciate it if I didn't have my head buried in paperwork the entire time. Then again,' she went on with a wry smile, 'maybe not. You call me if you need me.'

'I will,' Sheelagh promised and Sam searched her face to ascertain she meant it.

Stepping to the door, she glanced back. 'Look after yourself.'

The way she'd made the pressure on Sheelagh's brow disappear was recompense for any slight pain her feelings were causing her right now. It was worth feeling so unsettled, feeling so drawn to Sheelagh, if she could help her through this. At least, that's what she had to keep telling herself to keep her emotions in check. If the only thing she could do was keep delaying the moment when she had to think seriously about what all this meant for her life then she'd gladly keep doing it.

* * *

A few days at home physically recharged her and she got a couple of texts from Sheelagh letting her know that she was okay. Abi commented on the fact that she didn't seem too bothered about being away from work and it was true – she missed Sun Hill, yes, but it was more about missing Sheelagh than her job. She knew that was a remarkable shift in her mentality and that scared her but, true to her decision of the week before, she put off thinking about what it signified and what it might mean.

She couldn't help thinking about Sheelagh, even as she was doing something as mundane as cleaning the oven. It became a habit, mixed in with her musings on some of the cases she'd left behind and that little voice at the back of her head wondering whether she'd done enough to get the permanent DI post. All that came second to Sheelagh though. She didn't want to fathom what would happen once Sheelagh wasn't relying on her support so much and, God forbid, if she didn't get the DI's role. What would her life look like at that point? That was something else she tried not to think about very much.

When she got back to work she was disappointed to find that Sheelagh had the day off. However, that did mean she focused completely on her caseload at least and she found she accomplished quite a bit.

As she was leaving the station that day Gina tapped on the window of her office and beckoned her in for a drink. Grateful, she closed the door behind her and sat down, eagerly taking the glass Gina pressed into her hand.

'You look like you've had a day of it,' Sam commented.

'If I told you, you wouldn't believe it,' Gina replied. 'And, as it happens, I can't.'

'Shame,' Sam said, though she didn't find she was as intrigued as she usually would've been. She had more than enough to ruminate on as it was. However, she wasn't completely immune so she asked, 'Was it something to do with Jim Carver's domestic situation?'

'Indirectly,' Gina said. 'That was a mess and a half, wasn't it?'

'Is he okay?' Sam questioned. 'Can't have been easy, admitting all that.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Gina muttered, 'I'm not one for touchy-feely politically-correct codswallop but I do believe in looking after your own. What bothers me is that no one spotted she was knocking seven bells out of him and he didn't feel like he could talk to any of us. It reeks, Samantha, not what the job's supposed to be about.'

She smiled softly. 'We're meant to look after each other.'

'Some of us are making a full-time occupation of that these days,' Gina said, watching her over the rim of her glass.

Sam shifted in her seat and sipped her whisky. 'If you mean Sheelagh –'

'How's she bearing up?' interrupted Gina. Inwardly, Sam gave her full marks for tipping an interviewee off-balance then tried to clear the discomfort from her face.

'She's getting there,' Sam said carefully. 'You know she's resilient. Any news on Des?'

Gina shook her head. 'If he's a got a lick of sense he'll be long gone.'

'If that means he's out of her life...' Trailing off, Sam sighed and tilted her glass around. 'Of course I want him caught. He deserves to pay for what he did. But I look at her now and wonder how much more she can take.'

'Well, with you fighting her corner she should be all right,' Gina said. 'You haven't forgotten, I assume, that the decision on the permanent DI is due any day now.'

'Funnily enough, I hadn't,' she replied, almost physically feeling them slip onto solid ground. 'I don't suppose you've got some insider knowledge, have you?'

Chuckling, Gina answered, 'Afraid not. If it's any comfort, I can't stomach the idea of having to get used to someone else up in that office.'

'It is,' she said, raising her glass, 'thank you.'


	15. Chapter 15

When the kids were little Sheelagh had done what most parents did – bribed them to behave. She was considering resurrecting that sticker chart to reward herself for getting through one day at a time right now. Every night she curled up in bed, feeling the baby move inside of her as she tried to count the positives instead of focusing on the stresses mounting up in her life. The voice telling her to do that sounded remarkably like Samantha Nixon and, invariably, she found herself listening to it.

Occasionally, one of her stresses actually became the pressure she was putting on Sam. Although she hadn't really asked for anything, she was aware of how much of a disruptive influence she was to Sam's work routine at the moment. More than once, too, she'd seen something in Sam's eyes recently that she didn't fully understand. She prided herself on knowing her pretty well by now but this was something she couldn't put her finger on. Perhaps she was just tired of the role she'd suddenly found herself in but, no, Sheelagh couldn't truly accept that was the case.

That evening Sam when had sought her out following Eva's nightmare day Sheelagh had warned her she couldn't control everything. The wistful tone of voice, coupled with the expression on Sam's face, had piqued her interest, and then the fact that she'd practically run away from her added to the intrigue. Samantha Nixon only ran when there were emotions she couldn't deal with. So the big question was what Sam was trying to run from this time? Sheelagh couldn't work it out.

After the dedication of Cass Rickman's tree she'd cajoled Sam into talking to her and if Rob hadn't interrupted Sheelagh suspected she would've found how exactly what was bothering her. As it was, she'd have to wait and see, try to read Sam in the way she'd become so adept at and hope she'd get to the root of the problem in time.

With Sam and then Sheelagh herself having a few days off they hadn't crossed paths in a while, though she'd deliberately sent a few messages to set Sam's mind at ease. She knew she was worried about her and, truth be told, it made Sheelagh feel slightly better that someone cared about her right now. With no Patrick at home, the kids dipping in and out as they pleased and very few people at work knowing the truth of her situation, she'd feel lonely if it wasn't for Samantha Nixon's steady support.

There was a particular buzz around the station on the day she was back on-shift. Listening in to gossip was second nature to her now but people seemed to quieten on her approach. That disconcerted her slightly so, when she passed Ken Drummond in the corridor, she grabbed him as someone who couldn't usually keep his mouth shut – double-life excepted.

'What's going on around here?' she asked. 'It feels like I'm being kept out of the loop.'

He glanced up and down. 'Well, everyone knows you're matey with the DI, don't they?'

On the one hand she was relieved that this was nothing to do with Des, on the other she was instinctively anxious on Sam's behalf. 'What's wrong?'

'Looks like the Super's making a decision on the permanent job today,' he answered.

She bit her lip. 'How's it looking?'

'Who knows?' he retorted. 'I reckon after doing the job as long as she has she's a shoe-in but Phil reckons otherwise.'

'He would,' Sheelagh commented. 'Have you seen her this morning?'

'Yeah,' he said with a grimace. 'You could run the lights if you stuck wires on her ears. If she comes your way, calm her down, yeah? Reckon you're the only one who could manage it.'

Smiling, Sheelagh patted his arm. 'I'll do my best. Cheers, Ken.'

As she continued along to custody she pondered how Sam must be feeling right now. She knew how much she wanted this job, how hard she'd worked for it. In fact, perhaps that explained why she'd been so strange recently – she knew this was looming and her anxieties were kicking into gear. At this point, of course, there was very little she could do to change the outcome of the Super's decision. He'd had over a year, after all, to judge her performance. She doubted Sam would accept that though – she'd pull out all the stops until the last minute. It was just her nature.

Sheelagh had only been on custody a matter of minutes when a familiar figure strode towards the desk, hands stuffed into her coat pockets. She was obviously on her way out of the station and, yet, here she was in custody looking decidedly green. Quite naturally, Sheelagh moved to the edge of the desk to greet her and she assumed that Sam recognised her knowledge about what was going on. At least, she seemed to know she didn't have to tell her, which was maybe the same thing.

'I haven't got long,' Sam muttered. 'I told Debbie I left my phone upstairs.'

'It'll be a long day if you're working with her,' Sheelagh said.

Briefly, Sam buried her head in her hands. 'Jack's trying to distract me. It's a straightforward assault, I can't see it working for long. Or at all, if I'm honest,' she added with a wry smile.

Sheelagh discreetly squeezed her hand then withdrew. 'There's nothing you can do now.'

'I can work on my interpersonal skills,' Sam replied.

'Where did that come from?' asked Sheelagh, tilting her head to the side.

Sam shrugged. 'If I don't get the job, it's because I don't offer tea and cake to my team on a weekly basis. Which would've been more use if he'd told me six months ago.' Growling, she pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes. 'I've gotta go. I just needed to see a friendly face.'

'Anytime,' Sheelagh said softly. 'I'll see you later.'

Sighing, Sam nodded then turned around and walked back the way she'd come. There it was again – the patented Nixon mask zinging back into action as her shoulders and head lifted. Other people might know she was stressed about the promotion situation but no one else would know the detail of it. In that respect, Sheelagh felt honoured.

If the day dragged for Sheelagh, she had no idea how Sam was coping. The DI's job was the hot topic of conversation around every corner, though Sam and Debbie did seem to be getting their teeth stuck into this apparently routine assault case and were back and forth to the station a few times from what Sheelagh gathered from surreptitious eavesdropping. The beauty of Sam being the object of gossip was that everyone seemed to know where she was at any given time. Of course, Sheelagh didn't like the fact she was under surveillance like that – nor did she like that she was effectively excluded from conversation because of her known friendship with Sam – but it allowed her to keep track of her movements. As long as she was working this case she was likely to be okay. If they wrapped it up, that's when Sheelagh would start to really worry about her.

When the pair of them brought in a suspect Sam didn't say a word, allowing Debbie to go through the custody checks with the fella while she stood off to the side. From a couple of discreet glances sideways, Sheelagh surmised that she was anxious about the promotion but that there was something else bothering her. Perhaps it was something Debbie had said while they were working together or perhaps it was the case itself. Either way, Sheelagh didn't get an opportunity to ask her and when Debbie returned the prisoner to the cells she was alone.

Frustratingly, Sheelagh didn't see Sam again before the end of her shift on custody. Then she went on refs before a brief spell on CAD. When she entered the canteen, though, she caught sight of Sam sat at a table with Phil, Debbie and Rob, all of them looking massively uncomfortable. Sheelagh grinned to herself and continued to the counter, getting a tea and sandwich before moving to the table nearest the door. She wasn't sure at what point Sam had spotted her but, after a few minutes, she murmured something to her team and escaped over to Sheelagh's table with her cup of tea.

'Interpersonal skills?' Sheelagh questioned innocently.

'I think it scared them as much as it scared me,' Sam muttered. 'Don't tell them I said that.'

'Of course not,' she answered with a grin. 'How did your simple case turn out?'

Sam sighed and leaned back in her chair. 'Not so simple. The perfect crime and completely unprovable.'

'You can't leave me with that,' Sheelagh said when no explanation was forthcoming.

Chuckling, Sam sipped her tea then began, 'The original call out was an assault at a gym. The victim didn't see anything, which was rubbish for a start – she was hit from the front. We were just getting somewhere with that investigation when Gary and Reg found the victim's sister dead in her bath at the flat they share.'

Sheelagh frowned. 'Really? That's bad luck. Except that you don't believe in luck,' she added knowingly.

With a smile, Sam replied, 'Not usually, no. I tried to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. Everything pointed to an accidental death. The sister was an epileptic. It was just a tragic set of circumstance. Except,' she went on with a wry shake of her head, 'I couldn't bring myself to believe it and the phone records didn't add up with what we'd been told. Anyway, we made an arrest for the assault, a colleague at the gym where both of the sisters worked. When we interviewed the assault victim again, though, she threw something else into the mix – she told us her sister was raped by this guy and she was assaulted because she confronted him.'

Sheelagh was fascinated, leaning across the table. 'Go on.'

'Well, the suspect then admitted to the assault,' Sam continued, 'but he claimed he was being blackmailed, threatened with an allegation of rape when, in actual fact, he was in a consensual relationship with the sister that turned sour. So back we went to the assault victim and she put an idea in my head. She questioned whether there was a connection between the assault on her and her sister's allegedly accidental death.'

'And there was?' asked Sheelagh.

Sam inhaled deeply. 'Oh, there was, all right. She was the connection. It came to me in a flash. There was broken glass in the bathroom, there were the phone records and the suspect's story ringing true, they were in deep with loan sharks, not to mention the fact that only one of them went to confront this alleged rapist – didn't sound very likely to me. So what happened,' she went on, 'was that our assault victim wanted to blackmail the guy and the sister didn't want to. The sister starts fitting in the bath and, rather than help her, our assault victim lets her die.'

Sheelagh gaped at her. 'You're joking?'

Shaking her head, Sam replied, 'She admitted it without admitting it. There's no hope in hell of getting a prosecution. I can't even think what we'd charge her on.'

'Does it make you feel any better that you worked it all out?' questioned Sheelagh after a moment.

'I would've preferred to nail her for it,' said Sam.

Sheelagh smiled and sipped her tea. 'Of course. But as a poor second-best? For what it's worth, I think you're a genius.'

'Well, we knew that,' Sam retorted, though the expression on her face was nothing short of delight. Draining her cup, she went on, 'I should go fill the DCI in before he goes home.'

Stretching across the table, Sheelagh rested a hand on her arm. 'Are you okay?'

Sam shrugged. 'I don't do well with suspense.'

'It'll be over soon,' Sheelagh assured her.

'For the job maybe,' Sam muttered.

Frowning, Sheelagh questioned, 'What do you mean? What else is going on?'

'Nothing,' answered Sam with perhaps the most unconvincing smile Sheelagh had ever seen. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Okay,' murmured Sheelagh, watching her hurry out of the canteen.

There was another one of those peculiar moments that she didn't fully understand. That there was something bothering Sam was now undeniable, but so was the fact that she apparently didn't want to discuss it. Perhaps she just assumed that Sheelagh had enough on her plate – that was a very Samantha Nixon way of looking at things – but, given the chance, she'd gladly explain that wasn't the case. If she could be half the help to Sam when she needed it as she'd been to her over these last few weeks then she'd be content. There was no 'imposing' on her, nothing like that. It was just that Sheelagh saw her friend struggling and she wanted to help. The only question was whether Sam would let her.

* * *

Intermingled with her usual thoughts about the baby and the inescapable flashes about Des and her wreck of a marriage, Sheelagh was preoccupied that night wondering about Sam and her promotion. They'd hear in the next few days, maybe even today, so her senses were on high alert when she walked through the front office on her way into the station.

There was nothing yet, as least nothing that Marilyn felt the need to share with every passing officer. So Sheelagh continued through to the locker room, changing into her half-uniform and visiting Gina's office for instructions.

'Custody for the duration, if you don't mind.'

'Not at all, Ma'am.' Sheelagh hesitated with one foot already back in the corridor. 'Any news on the DI's job yet?'

The usually-inscrutable inspector blinked. Unfortunately, Sheelagh couldn't work out whether it was a good blink or a bad blink. 'I'm sure you'll be the second to know,' Gina answered. 'You and Sam are thick as thieves these days.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she replied, uncertain how to take the comment given the hawkish way Gina was currently looking at her. 'I'll get to custody.'

'Mmm,' Gina returned, 'you do that.'

Sheelagh didn't have much time to ponder exactly what Gina meant by any of that before she was plunged into the hustle and bustle of custody. She enjoyed it for what it was, knowing that fairly soon it'd be a luxury the top brass wouldn't allow her in case she was randomly bitten by a prisoner or something.

Mid-morning, she jumped at the chance to take a few files up to the DI's office. As she walked through CID she kept her ears open but no one seemed to be any the wiser up here about the promotion prospects.

When she approached Sam's office the door was ajar but she was on the phone. Seeing her, a smile lit up Sam's face and she beckoned her in, holding up a finger and gesturing to the chair. Settling down with the files on her lap, Sheelagh couldn't help but listen in to the conversation and it must've shown on her face since Sam shot her a quizzical look as she hung up.

'What?' she asked.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'The name Clive Purshaw – it rings a bell, that's all. What's he done?'

'Nothing, that we know of,' Sam answered. 'His hire car was used in a hit and run this morning but he says it was stolen and we've no reason to think otherwise. Unless you're telling me we have,' she added, resting her elbows on the desk.

'I could barely tell you what day it is,' Sheelagh said. 'What's the case?'

'Ex-con run over this morning,' said Sam. 'Not long out of Longmarsh for killing a little girl in a hit and run of his own a few years ago. He only served eighteen months.'

Automatically, Sheelagh's hands rested on her stomach. 'Why so short a sentence?'

Sam shrugged. 'Extenuating circumstances, not sure what yet. Either way, the killer's now a victim and we need to square it away. Don't put yourself down anyway,' she went on. 'I'd take your memory on a bad day over anyone else's on a good one.'

Though touched, Sheelagh just smiled and pointed to the files she'd brought up with her. 'You're just saying that in the hope I'll take these away again.'

A warm smile drifted across Sam's lips. 'Guilty.' Then, as Sheelagh rose, she asked, 'Did you know Cathy Bradford's back today?'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'How's that going?'

Leaning across the desk, Sam lowered her voice. 'Me and Brandon walked in on her earlier watching her own television appearance on video. I swear, Sheelagh, she was mouthing her own words back at herself.'

With a grimace, Sheelagh questioned, 'How can anybody trust her after what she did to Polly?'

'I hope they can't,' Sam said darkly. 'Honestly, if she comes anywhere near you run and...'

When she trailed off, Sheelagh concluded, 'Tell you?'

A blush had snaked along Sam's neck. 'Well...yeah.'

'Honestly, I could shatter your reputation in an instant,' said Sheelagh, stepping towards the door.

'Sheelagh?' Sam's hesitant voice brought her back and there was a strange expression on her face. 'Thanks for not asking,' she continued. 'I don't know yet and everybody keeps asking.'

Stood in the doorway as she was, CID bustling behind her, Sheelagh couldn't really respond to that as she'd want to. It was odd – she knew Sam was holding something back from her but in this moment she seemed so sincere, as though their friendship was everything to her. Instead of articulating any of that, Sheelagh just smiled once more and left, wondering about the look on Sam's face for the next hour – at least until an encounter with Nick and Gary shook it from her mind.

She heard them before she saw them, stomping towards custody and arguing at a volume more in keeping with a playground than a police station. Feeling that it might be wise to put the desk between her and them, especially in her condition, she returned to the other side and waited until they reached her.

'Afternoon, Sarge,' Nick spat.

'Afternoon,' she returned apprehensively.

'Officer Klein, shoulder number 140,' he went on. 'Evidential material relating to the Hutton Road hit and run to be booked in, Sarge.' Dragging a strip of pills from his pocket, he slammed them onto the desk. 'Twelve tabs of Tomazipan, to be kept out of the reach of children and irresponsible adults like me.' He glared at Gary then back to Sheelagh. 'All present and correct?'

For a moment you could've heard a pin drop. Then Nick just inclined his head sharply and swept back off down the corridor. Watching him go, Sheelagh rounded the desk once more to talk to an uncomfortable-looking Gary.

'What is going on?' she demanded.

Gary shifted feet. 'Well, I was just keeping an eye on him. You know, after his rehab and everything.'

'Yeah, well, you've obviously gone a bit too far,' Sheelagh said.

'That's always been my problem, Sarge,' Gary replied. 'I'm a worrier.'

'Just give him some room, okay?' she suggested.

With a nod, Gary trudged off and she shook her head. His heart was in the right place but Nick couldn't be mollycoddled. If he was going to make mistakes with his rehab then he had to be responsible for them. As it was, Sheelagh was fairly confident he was approaching it in the right way and didn't share Gary's concerns about it.

The name Sam had been looking up – Clive Purshaw – still nagged at her memory and, finally, a little later she recalled why. It had been a case she'd encountered at her old nick, one involving a prison officer if she remembered correctly. Excusing herself from custody for ten minutes, she went to look it up herself instead of adding more pressure to Sam's day by suggesting she do it. Two minutes after that she was lumbering up the stairs in triumph.

Unfortunately for everyone concerned, Phil was also in the DI's office when she arrived. So Sheelagh knocked on the open door, infusing more professionalism into her pose than was usual in this office these days.

'This suspect you told me about? Clive Purshaw?' Sheelagh said without preamble and Sam nodded eagerly. 'I said his name rang a bell, I was right.'

Looking pleased, Sam questioned, 'What have you got on him?'

'He said he was a book dealer?' queried Sheelagh. 'Up until about a year ago he was an officer in Her Majesty's Prison Service – at Longmarsh.'

The significance of the discovery – that Purshaw worked at Longmarsh and the hit and run victim this morning had been imprisoned there – hit both Sam and Phil at the same time, though the glimmer of excitement on Sam's face was much more preferable to the sneer that appeared on Phil's.

'Thank you, Sheelagh,' Sam said, maintaining her professional exterior in front of Phil.

Inclining her head, she left them to it, hearing Phil launch into speculation before she even rounded the corner.

The pair of them obviously went out to arrest Purshaw because the next Sheelagh saw of either of them was when they brought the fella into custody, although Tony had brought down the father of the dead child earlier who was also a suspect in the hit and run but too drunk to be able to defend himself. He was currently sleeping it off in the cells.

There was a bounce in Sam's step as she brought Purshaw into custody but she didn't say anything other than what she had to in regards to the arrest. That intrigued Sheelagh – it was as though Phil was forming a barrier between them and, apart from his reputation as a thoroughly unpleasant entity in Sun Hill, there was something more than pure professionalism behind it. Sam didn't seem this cautious about their unlikely friendship around anyone else.

Looking at her as she booked Purshaw in, Sheelagh tried to ascertain whether she'd had the nod about the DI's role. Then again, that was something she'd be able to legitimately share and, Sheelagh thought with an inward grin, she wouldn't be able to resist. No, maybe this was just renewed confidence in her abilities or something similar. Whatever it was, it was beautiful to see.

Sam didn't stick around for the interview with Purshaw, asking instead to speak to the father of the dead little girl. Phil hovered in custody, ostensibly waiting for Ken but, it seemed to Sheelagh anyway, more hanging around to wind Sam up. Whatever his motives, it stopped them having a proper conversation and Sheelagh only managed to briefly meet her eye when she handed the prisoner over to Sam at the gate.

Then, however, the caring version of Samantha Nixon could legitimately expose herself to the grieving father. She steered him towards an interview room with as much care as Sheelagh had seen her do on other similar occasions and the door gently clicked shut.

Phil, on the other hand, still lingered with his arms planted on the desk.

'You wanna watch her, Sheelagh,' he said.

Returning to her side of the desk, she pulled the custody log towards her and made some adjustments. 'I'm sorry?' she queried.

'Could be harnessing yourself to a dead horse,' he replied.

'I'll take my chances,' she said. 'Was there something else you wanted, Phil? Only I'm not in the market for advice, I'm afraid.'

When she glanced up she found irritation splashed over his face. Whatever he expected to gain from this little conversation, she'd pulled the rug out from under him. Shaming her friendship with Sam wasn't going to work. While she was aware Sam was keen to keep it private from this colleague in particular, Sheelagh wasn't about to allow him to think that he could twist things just for the opportunity of hurting a woman he loathed. If friendships were that fickle in Phil Hunter's world then he'd obviously think he could throw a spanner in the works, but he didn't know them and he certainly couldn't alter her opinion of Sam.

He waited for a further reply then, when one wasn't forthcoming, he just snorted and wandered off to the interview room. Unlike Sam, he made sure he slammed the door.

It was only about fifteen minutes before Sam returned to custody but Sheelagh could see the change the interview had wrought on her. She was alone, hands buried in her pockets and her brow furrowed. Sheelagh stepped around the desk to meet her and Sam swallowed hard.

'That poor man,' she muttered finally. 'His daughter died and his life's over. Without her, he's...' Sighing, Sam covered her face. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologise to me.' After checking there was no one else in sight, Sheelagh took her hand. 'It's okay.'

Meeting her eye, Sam nodded then pressed her lips together and cleared her throat. 'Can I use the custody phone please?'

Sheelagh chuckled. 'Seeing as it's you, go on.'

Although she'd never deliberately eavesdrop on any of Sam's conversations, she heard a snort of derision and turned around just as she cordially thanked the person on the other end of the phone and hung up.

'What is it?' Sheelagh queried.

Shaking her head, Sam said, 'Next time I ask Phil to draw up a list of suspects for a hit and run, remind me to explicitly tell him to check they can actually drive.'

'Oh, you must be joking,' replied Sheelagh.

'I wish I was,' Sam returned. 'I'd better release the poor guy. He's been through enough.'

She went to retrieve him from the interview room and Sheelagh discharged him from custody as quickly as she could. Then she watched Sam walk him along the corridor, seeing her touch his shoulder and talk quietly to him before they rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Before she returned, Phil and Ken came out of their interview with Clive Purshaw. He went back in the cell and Ken went to chase up a few leads. Phil, again, lingered but this time Sam stampeding down the corridor towards them prevented him from trying his manipulations a second time. Sheelagh didn't say a word, didn't even make eye-contact with Sam, just disappeared into the back and concentrated on her work. After a few moments Sam and Phil moved off together.

Relieved on custody for refs, Sheelagh first went in search of either Gary or Nick to see whether there'd been any repercussions from earlier. She found Gary out front kneeling beside a car she recognised as Nick's and approached him.

'Did you manage to sort things out with Nick?' she questioned.

Gary leapt to his feet. 'Eh? Erm, yeah, kind of. It's fine now.'

'Really?' She waited for his nod before continuing, 'So why are you trying to break into his car?'

'I'm not.' The cogs working in his brain were almost audible. 'He said I could borrow some jump leads.'

Sheelagh growled. 'Gary, I know I said to give Nick some room but that doesn't mean cover for him when he strays. Now what's going on?'

'Nothing,' he muttered.

'Gary,' she said firmly.

Sighing, he burst out, 'Well, how does this sound to you, right? An officer goes to meet someone in an alleyway, right? He gives her an envelope and she gives him a package.'

'And what did this officer tell his colleague?' queried Sheelagh.

'That he was going to meet a snout,' answered Gary.

'Did he see you follow him?' she pressed.

'No, but, whatever it was she gave him, it's in the boot.' When Sheelagh groaned, he went on, 'Look, I don't want to be a grass, Sarge but... I just don't want to see him get onto the drugs again.'

Bashing her hand on the car, she spun around and went back into the station. She needed time to think about this away from Gary's trusting gaze. One of the perils of being a sergeant was getting caught in sticky messes like this. She'd tried to support Nick – she liked him – but she couldn't overlook what Gary had told her. However, she did need to approach it carefully, not just steam in there. After all, there might still be a plausible explanation for all of this.

She went to the bathroom then the canteen, grabbing a tea then joining a group that consisted of Tony, Brandon, Honey, Gary and Nick. Those two were sullen with each other but, interestingly, Nick didn't look outright guilty, just irritated.

The conversation at the table was centred on Superintendent Okaro and some of the decisions he'd been making that seemed at odds with common sense. Despite agreeing with their sentiments, as the senior officer at the table she felt compelled to defend her superior.

'But do you think the Super's job's easy?' she asked, earning a disparaging look from Tony. 'He's got the Borough Commander breathing down his neck and he's got a budget he's got to make work.'

'Yeah, we know all that, Sarge,' Brandon said. 'But the point is when the pressure's on is Okaro more interested in playing politics or backing up his officers?'

She withdrew from the argument, sensing that she couldn't win. It rumbled on until the Super walked in behind Brandon and Nick, neither of whom shut up quickly enough. With one scathing look, the Super turned and left while Nick groaned and buried his head in his hands.

The silence around the table stretched then Gary cleared his throat. 'Heard about the DI's job?'

Sheelagh's ears pricked up then she caught sight of the expression on Tony's face and her heart sank. Even so, she didn't ask the question. She waited for someone else to do it.

'No,' Honey said, 'did Nixon get it?'

'She didn't,' Tony said quietly.

Her first impulse was to rise and she couldn't fight it. Leaving her tea, she slipped away from the table and went straight upstairs. She almost hesitated on the upstairs landing but Sam had rushed to her side so many times recently that this impulse felt natural – she was just a little apprehensive that the reversal wouldn't be appreciated. Sam's instincts were to shut her out, after all. She'd done it before with Glenn; there was something else she'd been keeping to herself. There was no guarantee that Sam would welcome her right now, no guarantee at all.

Even with that rational argument nipping at her brain, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. She had to try; she had to show Sam she cared. So, without allowing herself another moment of indecision, she walked straight through CID, deliberately ignoring the faces that turned in her direction.

It was no surprise that Sam's office door was shut fast and the blinds were closed. Aware of numerous eyes on her, Sheelagh knocked and, when that was ignored, tried the handle. Slipping inside the office, she found Sam sat illuminated only by her desk lamp, ready to yell at whoever had the temerity to disturb her brooding over her whisky.

'Don't tell me to go,' Sheelagh said quietly. 'I know that you want to, I understand. But, please, don't push me away, not again.'

Sam's lips parted and she seemed about to muster a defence. Then it crumpled. She looked at the desk and exhaled heavily, nodding her acquiescence. With a sigh of her own, Sheelagh sat down, not wanting to force Sam to speak immediately if she didn't want to but not prepared to leave the office until she had, duties be damned.

Draining her whisky, Sam refilled her glass. Then, after another protracted pause, she said, 'Phil knew, probably all day. He spread the rumour that I'd got it,' she added, 'then waited for the payoff.'

'He was doing the opposite with me earlier,' Sheelagh said.

Sam looked up. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, at the time I thought he was just stirring but... He heavily implied that you hadn't got it,' Sheelagh explained. 'We weren't even talking; he just mentioned it out of the blue.'

'I bet,' Sam said darkly, sipping her whisky. 'The thing about Phil Hunter is that he judges everybody by his own standards. He can't see nuance or...goodness or...friendship. He was hoping for a kill the messenger scenario. Why just screw me over with the job when he could...' She trailed off and shook her head. 'Credit where it's due, when it comes to being twisted he's a master at it.'

The unspoken words were more potent than the spoken ones and for a moment Sheelagh didn't know how to respond. Finally, she said, 'I'm sorry.'

Snorting, Sam queried, 'What are you sorry for? You didn't allow him to manipulate you, not like I did. I should've seen what he was up to today but I –'

'You deserved that job,' Sheelagh cut in. 'You shouldn't be made to feel ashamed for believing you'd got it.'

'I obviously didn't deserve it,' Sam returned.

'You won't convince me of that,' said Sheelagh. 'I'm almost as stubborn as you are. Sam,' she went on, feeling the argument brewing, 'do you remember the conversation we had in the bathroom when the Super sent you off on leave – after Glenn?'

Sam blinked then inclined her head. 'You think this is related to what happened with Abi?'

'It might be,' she answered. 'It might be what encouraged the Super to make the wrong decision but that's not what I'm driving at.'

'Go on,' murmured Sam. She rested her arms on the desk, leaning towards her with a rapt expression on her face and Sheelagh almost panicked at the sheer level of trust in her face. It wasn't what she'd come to this office expecting.

Swallowing, she said, 'You're good at the job. I know I'm biased,' she continued with a smile, 'but you've had the support of most people in this nick. Sure, people have talked behind your back and they've criticised you, but you're not doing the job if you're not upsetting people once in a while. You've had the support of Jack, Gina, Eva; wholehearted support, from what I've seen.'

'Okay...' Sam said slowly. 'But what does that matter now?'

'Of course it matters,' Sheelagh said, reaching across the desk and taking her hand. 'This is one man's decision. You know as well as I do that Okaro's being criticised from all angles at the moment. The way I see it, this is the latest in a series of dubious decisions that no one either respects or understands. And why has he made it? Well, I couldn't tell you but I remember what you said that day.'

Sam tilted her head to the side. 'You think he wanted an easier option, someone who wouldn't be distracted by personal problems, someone with less...baggage?'

'I don't know, darling,' she replied, 'but I do know it's nothing to do with your ability to do the job.'

Something had shifted on Sam's face and she withdrew, sipping her whisky. 'Like you said, you're biased.'

'It doesn't mean I'm wrong,' Sheelagh retorted.

They descended into silence. Sam seemed to be ruminating and Sheelagh didn't want to intrude. She sat quietly, feeling her baby kicking and repressing her urge to share that experience with Sam. Then she looked up and caught those green eyes studying her inquisitively.

'What's wrong?' Sam asked.

Sheelagh waved her hand. 'Oh...the baby's kicking, that's all.'

Lifting her chin slightly, Sam bit her lip. 'May I?'

'Please do,' Sheelagh said, unable to contain her smile.

Eagerly, Sam came around to join her, tentatively perching on the edge of the desk and stretching her fingers out but hesitating a little. Sheelagh took her hand, bringing it to her stomach and resting it just where her baby was kicking. Sam's face lit up as she felt it and, for a minute, she didn't look like a woman who'd just lost her prized hope of promotion. Then the baby stilled and she pulled her hand back, though she didn't return to her side of the desk.

'The thing is, Sheelagh,' she said quietly, crossing her arms, 'I was never a DS here, not really. I was here for one day and suddenly I'm Acting DI. I've done the job for over a year. I'm not sure I know how to be a DS in Sun Hill.'

'I can understand that,' Sheelagh murmured. Glancing to the floor, she said, 'You don't have to stay here, you could leave. You've passed your exams now; you've had a year's worth of experience on the job. I think you'd be welcomed elsewhere.'

'I can't leave,' Sam said firmly. 'I won't leave.'

Looking back to her, Sheelagh frowned. 'You're very sure on that point.'

'Well, I'm stubborn, remember.' Sliding from the desk, Sam returned to her chair and picked up her glass again. 'I'm not letting Phil Hunter beat me,' she added.

Sheelagh smiled along with her but, really, she was again analysing the unspoken content of Sam's words. Abruptly, it struck her that one of the primary reasons Sam was determined to stay in Sun Hill was because of her and she felt guilty for it, not that she could articulate that to Sam. She suspected it would be laughed off but that didn't make it any less of a reality.

'Don't make any decisions this minute,' she advised eventually.

Sam nodded but her mind seemed to have drifted again. After sipping her whisky, she delicately placed the glass back onto the desk and ran her finger around the rim. 'It's like I always hit the outside edge,' she said with a pained expression. 'I'm careering towards something then I bounce off in the opposite direction. I never see it coming. There was Glenn and then not making the cut as a profiler and this promotion and –'

She seemed to forcibly silence herself, seeking refuge in her drink again. Sheelagh watched her, again wondering what it was that Sam seemed unable to say to her but unable to fathom it out. Perhaps it was her imagination; perhaps Sam's head was swirling with so much stuff right now that she was understandably all over the place.

'Don't you need to get back to work?' Sam asked finally.

'Yeah,' answered Sheelagh, though she didn't move.

Maybe sensing her reluctance, Sam drained her glass and stood again. 'Don't let me keep you.'

It was a dismissal but, given how much Sam had opened up to her in the last fifteen minutes, Sheelagh could accept it. Really, it was more than she'd expected and she was almost proud of her for doing it. So she stood up wordlessly and turned towards the door. Then Sam's hand caught on her arm. Glancing back at her, Sheelagh was startled by the look on her face, even if she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Before she could question it, Sam wrapped her arms around her in a hug that Sheelagh gratefully yielded to. She didn't realise how much she needed the comfort of this human contact until Sam's chin was nestled on her shoulder.

'Thank you,' Sam murmured as she withdrew, sniffing and looking away.

Sheelagh pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. 'Are you sure you'll be okay?'

Inhaling deeply, Sam stepped out of reach. It was as though she was physically forcing herself to be independent but, at this stage, perhaps it was the best thing she could do.

'I'll be fine,' she assured her.

'Okay,' Sheelagh said softly, 'then I'll see you tomorrow.'

'You certainly will,' Sam replied, tugging the door open for her. 'Goodnight, Sheelagh.'

* * *

For much of that night, Sheelagh's mind was taken up with Sam.

She couldn't understand the Super's thought-process on this one but, then again, she wasn't alone in not understanding what was going through Mr Okaro's head lately. Sam's personal problems over the last year had largely been resolved and, though she admitted she was biased, Sheelagh thought that CID was working well as far as she could see. As a general rule, if Phil Hunter hated something then it was working.

Yes, Sam could be abrasive at times. Just because that attitude was never turned on her, it didn't mean Sheelagh was blind to it. But it was all about that 'heart of ice' Gina had mentioned the other week. She'd implied that Sheelagh had been responsible for it melting and, given how supportive Sam had been over the pregnancy and Des, she'd probably agree that it had thawed dramatically in the last few months. Of course, that wasn't knowledge the rest of the station was privy to but Sheelagh would certainly say that Sam had become generally more approachable as a result. It was always there – that warmth – but just tucked away beyond the attack of people like Phil Hunter. Perhaps Okaro hadn't seen it personally but she suspected Jack Meadows had, and she knew for a fact that Gina had. A decision like this wasn't made in isolation by one senior officer – or, at least, it shouldn't be. She refused to believe that Jack and Gina hadn't preferred the status quo. After all, with a new DI you didn't know what you were getting.

Sam belonged in that job. When she'd admitted that she didn't know how to be a DS at Sun Hill Sheelagh had instinctively agreed that she couldn't picture it. Stepping back into line alongside Phil and Debbie – it was hardly going to be easy. Though she cited stubbornness, Sheelagh knew it was nothing to do with that. Sam was career-minded and the sensible thing for her to do would at least be to apply elsewhere but that wasn't going to happen, not as far as Sheelagh could see.

If she was any kind of friend, she'd push. She'd go into work and tell Sam that she shouldn't stay in a station that didn't appreciate her, that her talents would be snapped up elsewhere. However, even imagining the void that would leave in her daily life gave Sheelagh a chill. It might be selfish but she couldn't push Sam away, even for her own betterment. She needed her too much. Perhaps in a few months things would be different but, for now, she couldn't picture her life without Samantha Nixon in it.

When she got to work next day she was fully prepared for the topic of gossip to be Sam missing out on promotion and she wasn't wrong. People aware of their friendship shushed on seeing her coming but sometimes not fast enough and she hated to hear people gloating over the situation. She felt protective over Sam in a way that the woman herself would probably be embarrassed by. The reason Sheelagh had to walk away from the gossips was because she was worried what she'd say if she didn't. Sam didn't need her fighting her battles; she just needed her on the sidelines ready to catch her. At least, that was how Sheelagh saw their friendship at this precise moment.

She checked in with Gina for instructions and was motioned into the office. Closing the door behind her, Sheelagh stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

'Have you spoken to her?' Gina asked without preamble.

'Not this morning,' Sheelagh said. 'Last night, yes.'

Gina surveyed her shrewdly. 'How was she?'

'Better when I left her,' she answered.

'I'm sure.' Although she looked as though she wanted to expand on that, Gina simply said, 'Well, I want you on CAD for the most part today. I know you've got some paperwork to finish up so take a few breaks for that.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she returned before promptly leaving.

CAD distracted her mind at least. Then, hearing Nick put in a call, she was reminded of the other thing that had occurred yesterday. She hadn't forgotten Gary's accusation, not entirely, but it had been superseded by Sam's bad news. Now she realised she had to deal with it rapidly, though she didn't want to put out a formal call in case one of the other senior officers picked up on it so she seized her chance when she heard Honey tasked to join Nick at the hospital where he was currently stationed with a victim. Excusing herself for five minutes, she tracked Honey down in the locker room and asked her to pass on a message to Nick to check in as soon as he returned.

Hearing over the radio a little while later that Nick was on his way back, she drafted in cover and set off in the direction of her office. She didn't quite get there before she saw Sam coming towards her. With the speed she usually reserved for examining her kids' faces, Sheelagh tried to ascertain how she was this morning. What she spotted on her face was the hidden anguish of the night before – likely invisible to anyone else – coupled with a very real irritation and delight at seeing her. Sheelagh surprised herself with that level of detail from just one look but, after all, she knew Sam extremely well by now.

'Looking for me?' she asked as they met in the middle of the corridor.

Sam held up the folder she was holding. 'Your paw prints are over this. I need some translation.'

Chuckling, she took it and flipped it open. It was a report she recognised as containing a write-up by Gary which had been passed upstairs to Rob – it was a nightmare combination.

'Ah,' she said. 'I see the problem.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sam replied, 'Funnily enough, Rob doesn't.' Glancing along the corridor, she lowered her voice. 'I had to pull Cathy Bradford from an interview with a rape victim earlier. You wouldn't believe her. Victim-blaming doesn't cover it. Ramani was as appalled as I was.'

'I bet,' Sheelagh murmured.

'She's asked me to prepare a performance review,' Sam added. 'If it's one of the last things I do as ADI I'm going to make it –' She broke off as they were approached by Gary and Yvonne Hemmingway, throwing Sheelagh one of their secret little looks. 'Are you wanting me or Sergeant Murphy?'

'You, Guv,' Yvonne answered. 'We attended a shout this morning about vandalism at the house of Dennis Weaver. You've had recent dealings with him, haven't you?'

Sam stood up a little straighter. 'I have. What was the vandalism?'

'Petty stuff,' said Yvonne, 'but I reckon it could escalate. We spoke to the wife, Guv.'

'Well, I'm surprised Christine Weaver gave you anything at all,' Sam commented.

'That villain's missus?' Yvonne questioned with a chuckle. 'She wasn't over the moon to see us.'

'Dennis Weaver's probably playing away, isn't he?' Sam returned. 'So what have you got – anything?'

Yvonne held out her notebook. 'L48 GHM – your lucky day. I'll check it out.'

'Good.' As the two constables moved off, Sam smiled at them then shifted her attention back to Sheelagh and smiled properly. The connection was broken by Phil literally barging in between them when it would've been just as easy to go around. He stomped over to Nick who had just appeared and Sam threw a glance at him. 'I swear,' she murmured, 'before my time's up here I'll...'

'I'm not visiting you in Holloway,' Sheelagh retorted, earning herself a rueful grin. Then she opened the folder again and pointed to the section she suspected Sam was having trouble with. 'He's got his dates wrong here – I checked them myself before it went upstairs. Gary's write-up was correct but Rob misinterpreted.'

'That's the polite way of putting it,' Sam said, casting another look in the direction of Phil still talking to Nick a few paces away. 'I'm blessed with idiots and scumbags. Present company excepted,' she added.

'Obviously,' answered Sheelagh, handing her the folder back. 'Is that all?'

'For now,' Sam replied. 'I'll catch you later.'

'I'll look forward to it,' Sheelagh said, watching her head towards the staircase.

Though she was putting a brave face on, the disappointment was still raw underneath. It wasn't that Sam was shielding it from Sheelagh, it was just that she was trusting her to see through it and say nothing. It was funny how Sheelagh knew these things but, then, it was funny how Sam seemed to know what was going through her mind at any given time. Of all the friendships she'd had in her life, this was both the most bizarre and the most fulfilling.

'You wanted to see me, Sarge?' Nick asked, startling her.

'Yes,' she said, gesturing him towards her office. 'I won't beat around the bush, Nick. I've heard that you might've fallen off the wagon, so to speak.'

Following her into the office, he closed the door. 'I'm clean, I haven't touched anything for months now. No drugs of any kind.'

'Yeah, there's been a number of things,' she replied, going to her desk and sitting down. 'Incidents.'

'What incidents?' questioned Nick.

'You've been making calls, arranging meetings,' she said. 'I'm not getting into specifics.'

'You think I've been using again.' When she glanced down he went on, 'I don't get this. What, has somebody been saying something –'

'You were seen in the street yesterday exchanging things with a woman,' Sheelagh cut in, 'passing something to her.'

'You don't think that I...' Trailing off, he rubbed his head. 'Oh, no way. You think I'm dealing? You have got this completely wrong, Sarge.'

'Okay, so you put me right. If it's not drugs then what is it?' Standing again, she pressed, 'Nick, I want an answer. If it's not drugs...'

With a sigh, he slumped into the chair opposite her. 'It's to do with Phil Hunter.'

'Go on,' Sheelagh said, rounding the desk. Her interest was undeniably piqued, though she was hardly going to give him an out at this stage. He could very well be playing her.

'Phil was...' Nick cleared his throat. 'A couple of years ago Phil was having an affair.'

While that was very interesting, she didn't know why he was telling her this now. 'What's that got to do with this?' she queried. 'This woman you were seen with yesterday, so who's she?' When he remained silent, she started for the door. 'If you'd rather speak to Inspector Gold –'

Standing, he blocked her path. 'No, it's got nothing to do with the job.' She stared at him, utilising the glare that worked so well on her teenage son. 'All right,' he continued, 'it's to do with Cindy, Phil's wife. If you don't believe me you can check it out for yourself.'

'I don't understand,' she said, returning to her seat.

'Well, I suppose I was like a shoulder for her to cry on, you know,' he explained. 'She's going through IVF. I mean, she's doing all of that and then she twigs that Phil's been having an affair. Now, now, what would you do if she came to you? You can't just go having an affair and expect to get away with it forever, can you?'

Although he wasn't to know, his words cut deep. Uncomfortably, she said, 'So this affair – you said it was over?'

'As much as it can be,' he answered. 'It's complicated. Phil fathered a child with the other woman.'

She didn't like the sudden parallels that were developing between her life and Phil Hunter's. Before she could formulate a response that didn't betray that fact to Nick, Yvonne surprised them both by knocking on the door and walking in.

'Sarge...' Looking around, she winced. 'Sorry, I thought the DI was... This business with Christine Weaver,' she continued. 'This is a bit delicate but I've checked the index number of the car the suspect drove away in and it belongs to Cindy Hunter, Phil's wife.'

'Right,' Sheelagh muttered, dropping her pen. 'Thanks, Yvonne.'

With a nod, Yvonne left them to it – and left the door open.

'Now do you understand, Sarge?' Nick asked.

'Phil had a child with Christine Weaver,' Sheelagh said then her gaze caught on Sam in the doorway. For whatever reason, she'd returned to the office and arrived just in time for the big revelation. The look on her face was half-shock and half-delight. Quickly, Sheelagh stood. 'Nick, that's all for now. Go on.'

He looked horrified that Sam had overheard them and slipped past her without a word. As she stepped over the threshold, Sheelagh hurried to close the door. Turning to Sam, she found her pacing as effectively as she could in such a small space.

'It's true, isn't it?' Sam questioned, spinning back to her. 'How stupid can you be?'

'This is Phil Hunter we're talking about,' Sheelagh retorted. 'What are you going to do?'

A slither of hatred crossed Sam's face then she made a visible effort to battle it down. 'I don't know.'

'Don't censor yourself,' said Sheelagh. 'If I were you, I'd hang him from the nearest tree by his ankles – or something else.'

Sam chuckled and sank into the chair Nick had recently vacated. 'Why do Dennis Weaver's dirty work for him?' she queried.

Leaning her shoulder against the door, Sheelagh watched her. 'I don't care what you do, just make sure you're clever about it. Phil's not a good enemy to have.'

'He's already my enemy,' Sam pointed out.

'I know that,' Sheelagh said with a smile. 'But, like you said, this is Dennis Weaver's fight. From what I know about him, he's more than capable of making Phil suffer for this. You don't have to put yourself in the firing line.'

Massaging her forehead, Sam muttered, 'I want him to know that I know.'

Sheelagh sighed. Stepping closer to Sam, she rested a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looked up at her before she said, 'Promise me you'll be careful, promise me you won't wind him up.'

'I can't,' Sam replied. 'I'm sorry.'

'Never mind,' Sheelagh said. 'Don't apologise for being you.'

Reaching up, Sam covered her hand with her own briefly then she stood. 'I better go.'

'Wait,' said Sheelagh before she opened the door, 'what were you doing back here anyway?'

'Oh...' Sam shrugged and looked embarrassed. 'I wanted to thank you again for last night.'

'That was fortuitous timing,' Sheelagh commented.

'It was at that,' Sam returned.

With one final look, she yanked the door open and disappeared into the depths of the station, leaving Sheelagh watching after her. Although she knew in her heart that whatever Sam was going to do in relation to Phil's little parental revelation was the wrong course of action, she couldn't condemn her for it. After all, he'd deliberately kicked her when she was down yesterday and he'd done nothing but obstruct her professionally for well over a year from what Sheelagh knew. He'd been lucky to escape the Ron Gregory debacle with nothing but a question mark over his record. He had the luck of the devil – like Des, Sheelagh realised with a jolt. Perhaps that was why she disliked him so much at this moment and was willing to let Sam seek revenge if she wanted it so badly.

Going to the canteen a little while later, Sheelagh found herself sat with Honey while she had her lunch. It was the best scenario available, she supposed, because while Honey talked ten to the dozen she didn't necessarily expect a response. It gave Sheelagh time to brood on everything that had happened in the last few days. What startled her most – when she stopped to think about it – was that her own worries about Des and the baby had been squashed underneath her desire to look after Sam and keep her out of too much trouble.

Her attention was grabbed by the sight of Cathy Bradford spilling change all over the floor following a conversation with Brandon. Knowing what she did about Cathy's insensitive handling of a rape victim earlier, Sheelagh watched her demeanour with interest. She seemed completely at sea, as though what had happened this morning had tipped her over the edge. Sheelagh exchanged a look with Honey as Cathy scooped up her change, glared at them for staring and fled the canteen.

Then Marilyn tapped Sheelagh on the shoulder. 'You haven't seen Gary Best about, have you?' she asked. 'It's just there's some fella in reception asking for him. Dennis Weaver?'

'Ah.' Though she doubted the wisdom of pairing Sam with Dennis Weaver in any capacity, it was true that she was dealing with the case so she said, 'Try CID. The DI's handling that one.'

As Marilyn bustled off, Sheelagh bit her lip and sipped her tea. Part of her wanted to go and involve herself in the impending altercation between Sam and Dennis Weaver, but she knew that counted as imposing on Sam professionally and she couldn't countenance that. It was an odd situation, really. The boundaries between them were so blurred now she could barely see them at all. That should scare her – and it probably did scare Sam – but they were irresistibly intertwined now. Unpicking that would be difficult, even if she wanted to.

Following another couple of hours on CAD, she was relieved by a constable in order to work on her accumulating pile of paperwork. She was diligently working away in her office when a familiar set of footsteps approached. Dropping her pen, she waited for Sam to enter and saw the anger burning in her eyes.

'What happened?' Sheelagh questioned. 'What did Dennis Weaver say?'

Sam's forehead creased. 'Weaver?'

'He came in here looking for Gary,' explained Sheelagh. 'I told Marilyn to tell you.'

'I haven't seen him,' Sam replied, closing the door and resting her head back against it. 'You'll never guess what Cathy's gone and done now.'

'I doubt I would,' Sheelagh said with trepidation. 'Go on.'

Inhaling deeply, Sam met her gaze. 'We've got a rape victim upstairs claiming that she hit the record button on her answering machine right before she was attacked. Except the tape's gone missing and the last person to have it?'

Sheelagh stared at her. 'How does that even happen?'

'I don't know,' Sam answered. 'It's beyond belief. I'm sorry, Sheelagh, she's heading back to uniform after this. Ramani wants her out and I don't blame her.'

'Neither do I,' she said.

After a few moments, Sam's anger seemed to flare then die. She pushed off from the door and crossed her arms. 'Watch your back around her. I mean that. She's a liability, a danger to everybody around her as far as I'm concerned. Whether it's luck or design, nothing sticks. If this tape doesn't turn up it'll be a formal warning but it's not enough to get her out of here permanently.'

It was all Sheelagh could do to contain her fond smile. 'You don't need to worry about me, you know. I can take care of myself.'

Sam shrugged, though she seemed embarrassed again. She swivelled on her heel, crossing to the door and back again. 'If she doesn't find that tape... This case was complex to start with. A wife raped by her estranged husband, the son's stuck in the middle, the husband's gone to ground. I couldn't tell you why but there's something about it all that... I don't know,' she concluded with a shake of her head. 'Maybe my instincts aren't up to much at the moment.'

'I don't think that's the case,' Sheelagh said.

'Ramani was tip-toeing around me,' continued Sam. 'She didn't want me speaking to the Super on her behalf in my position. I'm afraid I wasn't too polite, though I know she was only trying to be considerate.'

'I'm sure she understands,' answered Sheelagh.

'Maybe that makes it worse,' Sam retorted. 'I don't like people feeling sorry for me, Sheelagh.'

'It's not pity,' she argued, 'it's empathy, affection. Something you have to cope with, I'm afraid, especially now your heart of ice is melting a little. At least in front of fortunate souls like me.'

With a soft snort, Sam nodded then a fresh frown appeared on her face. 'How is it I never got the message that Dennis Weaver was here? Or should I just go for the obvious answer?'

Sheelagh chuckled. 'You could, I suppose, even if I couldn't verify the suspicion. The last I knew, Marilyn was heading upstairs to tell you he was in the front office.'

'We'll see,' Sam said thoughtfully.

'Perhaps it's best you didn't see him,' replied Sheelagh after a moment of debate.

Sam tilted her head to the side. 'Maybe you're right.'

'I am?' she queried, slightly startled by the swift agreement.

'Yeah,' Sam answered softly, 'you are. Anyway,' she went on, clearing her throat, 'I need to go see if Cathy's found that tape yet. Until she does...'

Leaving the statement dangling, Sam threw her one final half-smile and left the office.

After finishing up her urgent paperwork, Sheelagh was back on CAD for a couple of hours. She was intrigued to receive another call about a disturbance at the Weaver residence which she passed onto Nick and then heard no more about. That was the tantalising thing about this place – sometimes you got the whole story and sometimes you only got snippets. With something like this Phil Hunter mess she wanted to be in the loop, at least so she could keep Sam in the loop. It was funny how so many of her thought processes this week boiled down to that point.

Eventually, she had to collect a few print-outs from the front office. While she was in there, of course, she was collared by Marilyn with a few queries and was consequently still hovering around when she caught sight of a familiar figure sweeping down the staircase. Sam seemed like a woman possessed and Sheelagh automatically stepped forward to the desk to get a better look. It must've been that Sam sensed the attention because she glanced over, blinked away some of her preoccupation and approached her.

'What is it?' Sheelagh asked in a whisper.

Sam squeezed the back of her hand. 'I'm either a genius or I've lost it completely. I'll tell you later,' she added then darted out of the front office before Sheelagh could probe further.

The intrigue Sam had left her with refused to dissipate even as she finished her shift on CAD and returned to her office. Once more Sheelagh was inclined to hide in her work to avoid going home, though she'd admit that she was lingering today partly to find out what on earth Sam had been up to this afternoon. She was fully expecting her to seek her out at the end of the day and she did, appearing in the open doorway looking completely drained.

'Genius or insanity?' Sheelagh questioned.

A tired smile flitted across Sam's face. 'Genius that led to insanity. I wish I'd left it be, honestly I do.'

'Tell me,' said Sheelagh simply.

Closing the door, Sam sat down in her usual chair. She closed her eyes and, for more than a minute, seemed to be gathering her thoughts together. When she opened her eyes again she still looked unnaturally depleted.

'This rape case,' she said finally, knotting her hands together on the edge of the table. 'Cathy found the tape but the audio didn't match up with her statement. It suggested someone broke into the house during the rape, not before. Me and Ramani talked to the victim again but she was holding something back, her brother-in-law as well. Forensics showed two bloodstains in the house. It all indicated that the husband – the rapist – was dead or seriously injured but the wife and brother-in-law were adamant he'd skipped the country.

'We were waiting for a breakthrough and I had a catch-up with Rob about another case,' she continued. 'There'd been some vandalism at a cemetery with a racist angle. Someone had reported a disturbance there last night. The only trouble was, the caretaker confirmed the graves had been vandalised days ago. And this cemetery was slap-bang in the middle of the path between the victim's properly and the brother-in-law's house. It just came to me.'

'The stroke of genius,' Sheelagh murmured.

Sam nodded. 'As soon as I got to the cemetery I was second-guessing myself. It was implausible bordering on insane. I thought maybe it was the promotion, maybe I was trying too hard. Ramani came down to join me, more to rule it out than anything I think, but we found a freshly-dug grave with links to the family. Part of me thought it was the brother-in-law, I hoped it was.'

'But it wasn't?' she questioned softly.

'No,' replied Sam, pressing her lips together. 'She wouldn't get a brief, she wouldn't stop talking. That monster beat her and raped her for fifteen years but she was adamant it wasn't self-defence. He was being held down when she killed him, he was helpless. I tried to interject, you know. There was a way to spin it, a good solicitor could've helped her. She doesn't deserve a life sentence, Sheelagh, she really doesn't, but the CPS have got a full confession out of her. It's not right.'

'You know this isn't your fault,' Sheelagh pointed out. 'You followed the evidence, you had to do it. You're a copper, Sam, it's what you do.'

Sam massaged her forehead. 'If I hadn't –'

'Done your job?' Sheelagh interrupted. 'You didn't know where it would lead, anymore than you do with any investigation. This one was tragic but it was still a crime that needed solving. Besides, you made a pretty brilliant connection there; you know that, don't you?'

Another ghostly smile crossed Sam's face as she accepted the compliment without comment.

'Go home,' advised Sheelagh. 'Get some sleep. None of this was your fault. Come tomorrow morning you'll realise that.'

'Thanks,' Sam murmured.

'Oh,' Sheelagh said, watching her stand, 'it might interest you to know that Nick attended another shout earlier at Dennis Weaver's house. I think his domestic troubles might be coming to a head.'

'At least that's one good thing to happen today,' returned Sam. 'Night, Sheelagh.'

'Goodnight,' she said, watching her slip out of the office marginally more upbeat than when she'd entered it ten minutes ago. That was something; not much but something.

* * *

The next day the Sun Hill gossips had more fodder than they knew what to do with.

Cathy Bradford was indeed back in uniform but that raised fewer eyebrows than the fact that Brandon Kane's house had gone up in flames last night. Although everyone was safe, the blame had been placed squarely at the feet of Honey Harman since she'd been staying there and the fire had apparently started in her room. It caused a bit of extra friction in a station already teeming with the stuff.

Superintendent Okaro was having another bad day. As Federation Rep, Nick Klein had been having lunch with the Borough Commander to discuss the grievances against the Super which were mounting by the day when thieves had busted in and robbed the place. It wasn't the best advert for Canley and Okaro was pushing for a result. Sheelagh was hiding away in her office hoping not to get dragged into anything while she had an afternoon with her paperwork.

That held until she needed to run a few things up to CID mid-afternoon. Sam's door was open and she looked up even before she knocked, as though she recognised her footsteps. Seeing the files in her hand she groaned.

'If you bury those I'll pay you,' she said then she cocked her head to the side. 'Actually, in a few weeks it won't be my responsibility. Just bury them till then.'

Sheelagh chuckled and dropped them on the desk. 'Think of what my superior officers would say.'

'They'd give you a medal,' Sam answered.

'One of them, perhaps,' she conceded. 'Are you okay?'

Shrugging, Sam asked, 'Did you hear what happened earlier?'

'To be honest, I've been keeping my head down,' she admitted.

'I knew you were smarter than me,' said Sam with a grin. 'Well, the Super wanted to throw everything at the robbery case. We were arresting some of the suspects down on the Maycroft when one jumped from a balcony while Phil was chasing him. Broke both his legs for a start.'

Sheelagh winced. 'Is he going to pull through?'

'We still don't know,' replied Sam. 'What didn't help was that far-right councillor Nicola Marsh turned up, screaming racism against the white residents of the estate. Nearly had me lynched. Oh, I'm fine,' she added before Sheelagh could ask the question. 'It takes a lot more than that to scare me. But she's raising merry hell down there. It won't end well, especially because we haven't currently got the evidence to lock these kids up. We went for the arrests too soon.'

'Not your call?' Sheelagh said shrewdly.

Sam leaned back in her chair. 'Nope.'

There was a flurry of activity in the main office behind her which discouraged Sheelagh from any further comment. Seeing understanding on that point in Sam's eyes, she simply nodded and left to return to another pile of paperwork.

She dealt with several problems throughout the afternoon, though thankfully nothing too complex and nothing that a flash of her irritation couldn't solve. One of the perks of being pregnant around here was that the male members of the relief didn't know how to treat her and the female ones just tended to realise she had more experience than them – in several ways.

Her toilet trips were becoming so frequent that she was considering asking Inspector Gold if she could move a desk in there and have done with it. She was certain it hadn't been this bad with her first three pregnancies but, then, she wasn't as young as she was. The trouble was that every time she had to move because of the baby the extent of her problems nipped at her brain. To quell the panic she forced her mind back to Sam and pondered how she was getting on under the Super's orders this afternoon.

The woman herself barrelled through the open office door about an hour before Sheelagh's shift ended. Shutting the station out, she leaned back against the door and grimaced.

'I couldn't help it,' she said.

Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'What did you do?'

'I told Phil that Dennis Weaver knows the truth about who Madison's dad is,' she admitted.

'Is that what the disturbance last night was about?' Sheelagh asked.

Sam pushed off from the door, looking at her curiously. 'That's your response?'

'Why not?' retorted Sheelagh. 'Phil doesn't deserve any courtesy as far as I can see.'

For a moment Sam seemed to consider that then she shrugged. 'In fairness, he did wind me up. If I chased a kid and he jumped off a balcony I'd at least have the decency to remember his name. I enjoyed bursting his bubble far too much though.'

'Well, maybe that's okay,' Sheelagh said evenly.

Checking her watch, Sam said, 'I've gotta go. I've released two of the robbery suspects without charge and I doubt the Super's going to be too happy about it. If we'd done the arrests my way...'

She left the thought unfinished and disappeared as swiftly as she'd appeared. Sheelagh smiled and shook her head, trying to focus back on her paperwork. It worked to the extent that time bled away and when there was a knock on the door she didn't realise that her shift was already over.

It was Gina standing there, looking as though she'd done ten rounds with Mike Tyson. 'Come on, Sheelagh,' she said. 'There's a drink with your name on it. Or there will be in a minute. Your shift's well over.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she said with a smile. She didn't need to ask who was getting her a drink but she gratefully straightened out her paperwork and followed Gina across the hall. Settling in one of the chairs, she asked, 'Hard day?'

Gina snorted as she poured herself a drink. 'I've just had to rescue the Super from a lynching down on the Maycroft Estate courtesy of Nicola Marsh.'

'Seems to be the day for it down there,' Sheelagh commented. 'Is he all right?'

Removing her tie, Gina threw it down on the desk. 'Yep,' she said. 'No thanks to that woman.'

After taking a sip of her own whisky she poured another glass and then stowed the bottle safely away again. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The idea was contagious. Sheelagh felt her own eyelids drooping and succumbed to it for a few moments. Then someone else entered the room and closed the door.

With a smile, Sheelagh opened her eyes and found Sam placing a glass of tropical looking juice on the edge of the desk. She held up a finger and produced a little umbrella out of nowhere, slotting it into the glass before taking her seat and reaching for her own drink.

'Where on earth did you find that?' Sheelagh questioned, unable to keep the smile from her face.

'Honey Harman has her uses,' Sam replied with a shrug. 'She has a stack of them in her locker apparently.'

Gina's snicker drew Sheelagh's attention to the fact that she was paying attention again. 'I'll add that to the list of things I don't need to know about my relief.'

'Probably best,' Sam said. Then she raised her glass a touch. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers,' Sheelagh and Gina echoed.


End file.
